


The Survivalist

by Smith_wesson_winchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Sex, Demon Hunters, F/M, Family, Fluff, Healing Sex, Hurt Dean Winchester, Mark of Cain, Protective Dean, Protective Siblings, Sacrifice, Shower Sex, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:25:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8163562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smith_wesson_winchester/pseuds/Smith_wesson_winchester
Summary: Rachel Remington meets Dean Winchester in Austin airport.  Relationship develops.  Hunters become the hunted.





	1. The Meeting

“Bruce Andrew Montgomery fell to his death at 57 during a survivalist training camp in the Ozark Mountains. He is survived by…” the anchor on NBC began the evening news.

I glanced up from the eBook I had been reading on my iPhone to the flat screen on the airport terminal wall. The name rang in my memory of planning to attend his survivalist camp next summer and the time I spent training with him. Damn, now I would have to work with another survival specialist two weeks in July because the sponsor company would insist on a substitute so they wouldn’t lose their money. I had trained with Bruce in the past and had no desire to deal with some other macho ass that didn't think a woman could handle herself in the wilderness. Sitting in the Austin Bergstrom Airport waiting for a 10:00 pm flight to Seattle was crappy enough but now I hear one of the most admired and respected Navy Seal instructors for survival training died in a freak climbing accident. I had registered and paid the deposit for a two week rough wilderness training from Bruce next year. Well shit, I immediately start making plans to attend the funeral when I got back from this job interview in Seattle.

A movement in the seats across from me caught my eye. Resting on the floor was a scuffed brown leather satchel lying like a loyal hound next to a Red Wing hiking boot. The booted foot raised and crossed a long leg over a jean clad knee. The Levi 501 jeans were faded but not from the trendy acid washes but multiple trips to laundry mats and industrial dryers. Encased in those jeans were long muscular legs which were indicative of a 6 foot plus frame. Pretending to continue reading on my iPhone, I slid my glance across the aisle and two seats to my left. Hunched over an iPhone was a short almost military haircut, too dark to be called blonde, what I always called dish water blonde. Two days of whisker stubble growth covered a square jaw. The canvass green jacket was as faded as the jeans and unbuttoned revealing a dark forest green t-shirt and red flannel plaid shirt. Full lips that would be beautiful on a man or woman were turned down into a deep scowl at whatever was on the tiny screen. I couldn’t see the color of his eyes but the breath of shoulder and tampered waist made for a very pleasant view. He began quickly texting a message with blunt clean cut nailed fingers. I could see that his hands were strong and calloused like chopping wood and tightening a nut with a wrench would be easy and effortless. God, even his hands were good looking.

Before I could be caught being all creepy staring, I looked up at the gate display to see when boarding would start. Since the publishing company where I was to interview was paying for the trip, I had to pull out my ticket to check my seat number. Oh great, last row in the tail of a 747. Craptastic, and the last the board. I had about 30 minutes before they would even start calling for my row so grabbing a cup of coffee to go from the Starbucks I passed in the terminal sounded great.

I slung my WWII khaki canvass messenger bag over my head onto my shoulder and stood up. Turning left to the Starbucks I started down the row of chairs already thinking about getting a shot of raspberry flavoring added as a treat. Just as I walked past Long Legs, he stood up obviously distracted by his reading his text messages, and he crashed into me. BAM! It felt like I was blindsided by a NFL linebacker. I felt large hands grab my upper arms before I was knocked into the chairs. “Sorry.” A deep baritone voice slightly on the gruff side muttered.

Raising my face from the chiseled masculine chest that was inches from my face my breath sucked in and stopped. I looked up and my mouth went dry before watering fast like tasting a lemon. I stared into light green eyes, whiskered clinched jaw, and the longest lashes I have ever seen. I licked my suddenly dry lips and began my own stuttered apology. “Uh, sorry, pardon me.” I brushed past dunking my head to hide my burning cheeks. Heading for the coffee shop, I heard the whisper of canvass sliding across denim as he bent down, shouldered the leather bag and walked away.

Once I got in line to order, I chanced looking back to see Long Legs walk towards the men’s room with one of the finest male ass. Taking a deep breath and inhaling the faint scent of a man’s woodsy aftershave, I pulled out my MasterCard to pay for my Venti coffee. By the time I got my cup, boarding is called and people begin gathering bags and jackets. Since I hate crowds, I decided to be one of the last to board. I leisurely prepared my coffee with Splenda and creamer at the side counter top. Taking the first cautious sip, I congratulate myself on getting the extra shot of raspberry flavoring. I sat back down into the nearest row of chairs where I can keep an eye on the line heading down the boarding ramp. I casually scanned the crown looking again for Long Legs but he is nowhere to be seen.

My phone began to vibrate and I pulled it out of my Texas A&M hoodie pouch. After thumbprint security, I saw a message from my best friend and old college roommate Casedy. “Good luck! with a shamrock emoji”. I texted back, “Thanks, C U in a few weeks”.

Cass and I were roommates for all 4 years of undergraduate studies and 3 years of our graduate work. A microbiology major and liberal arts major as roomies always made us laugh at how different we were and still best friends. Cass was from Houston, attended a science magnet school, and I was a small town hick from west Texas. She was a National Merit Scholar, and I was a bookworm who learned at an early age to survive on my own. I could hunt, hike, and shoot better than 90% of the people in Texas, and Cass couldn’t tell the difference between poison ivy and a dandelion. It was the differences that made our relationship stronger than blood related sisters. After grad school we both had to face the time that college was over and real life, career, adult responsibilities had to begin. It sucked! 

Finally, I got an interview in Seattle with a publishing company where my master’s in English might pay off. I was fine with being a bookworm as long as it paid for my true passions; being outdoors, in nature, away from civilization. Which was why I had been looking forward to Bruce Montgomery’s training camp next summer. A chance to learn survival skills from a Navy Seal was a once in a lifetime opportunity for me. I was already a skilled backwoods hiker but Bruce’s course included some hand to hand combat and weapons training as a survivalist. He was known for having hidden bunkers and supply caches all over the states. When the sugar went to shit, Bruce would be one of those who not only survived but who would be one of the leaders in the aftermath. I really wanted to experience that for myself, but now all I could do was mourn the loss.

Pulled from my musings, boarding call for rows 26-30 came across the intercom. Once again shouldering my messenger bag, I had my ticket in hand and headed towards the gate. I handed my ticket to the gate attendant and stuffed my boarding pass stub in the pouch of my hoodie with my phone. I headed down the loading ramp with my thick soled hiking boots making muffled clumping sounds over the rev of the jet engines. Whenever I flew, I always carried in my bag, a change of underwear, bottles of water, my survival pack and bracelet. I dressed in layers cause you never know what the temperature is going to be like when you disembark and I’ve been caught one too many times going from the Texas heat to snowy Chicago. So sports bra, tank top, t-shirt, sweatshirt hoodie with TAMU blazed across the front, and Wrangler jeans was my attire of choice. I probably looked like some college student heading home on break instead of the 34 year old hoping to finish her Ph.D. someday.

The skinny blonde stewardess who greeted me at the door of the plane plastered with her fake smile irritated me with her obvious false happiness. Without a word, I headed down the narrow aisle to the last row praying there would be an empty seat next to me. I hated being crammed in this tin can and even worse if I had to rub elbows with a stranger for the whole flight. Thank God! Watching the numbers and letters as I pass, I realized I was getting the aisle seat. Finding my seat, I didn’t open the overhead compartment figuring it was already full and I could put my bag underneath my seat. Plopping down, I thought last row isn’t so bad since I didn’t have to worry about my bag getting snatched from behind me. Hearing last boarding call, I reached up and turned the knob to open the air vent above my head angling it to blow on my face. I always felt like I couldn’t get enough oxygen on planes so this helped. After lowering my hand, I realize someone is standing next to my arm rest. Oh God, Long Legs is in my row!?!

I stood up quickly and moved aside as he squeezed his lean muscled frame into the window seat. Looking towards the cockpit, I didn’t see anyone else so I breathed a sigh of relief for having an empty seat between us. Shit, here’s a distraction from getting some sleep on this late night flight. Long Legs is seated less than an arm’s length away and looking entirely too gorgeous to be anything else but a model or some actor. Using my peripheral vision, I judged him to be about mid-thirties with a perfect chiseled profile. The fact that he was flying coach and the unmistakable sense of danger rolling off him made the model or actor professions out of the question. Since frowning and furrowing his brow seems to be a permanent look, I chose to drop any pretense of conversation.

He tried to fold his long legs into a comfortable position but quickly gave up with a disgusted grunt. Dropping his leather overnight bag into the empty seat, I guessed he didn’t care if someone was ticketed for that spot. I’m sure the glare and scowl he was currently wearing would send anyone running for another empty seat anyway. Since the plane was only about half full, it wasn’t going to matter. As the plane began to move away from the gate, I was going to try and get some sleep since we’d land around 3:00 am and my interview was at 8:00 am. Pulling my travel pillow out of my bag, I wrapped it around my neck. As I shifted into a more comfortable position, I noticed Long Leg’s hands were gripping the armrest like he would stop the plane from moving by sheer force of will. Suppressing a giggle, I guessed everyone has a nemesis and flying was his.

Empathy was one of my strengths, so I took a deep breath and turned to say something to try and help him relax a little. As our eyes met, I noticed he was smirking at me! What the fuck! Giving him my full attention, I raised one eyebrow silently questioning him what was so funny. Hooking a thumb at my travel pillow wrapped around my neck, a deep baritone voice sarcastically said, “A cat pillow? You have a kitty cat travel pillow?” Oh God! I forgot the silly stuffed cat pillow Cass gave me for my birthday last year. It was gray with a pink nose and whiskers. I loved to take it whenever I traveled because it was practical and sentimentally cute. It was the one stuffed animal I owned because it was also useful and I didn’t do fluff. Now with it curled around my shoulders, I began to realize maybe it was time to retire cat pillow to permanent placement on my bed. A small smile curved my mouth as I give my sheepish explanation, “It was a gift.”

Ceases formed in the corner of his eyes as a genuine smile formed on his full lips. Holding out his right hand, he said simply, “Dean Winchester.” in a rough very deep voice. Slipping my hand into his, I forced air out of my lungs to whisper, “Rachel…Rachel Remington.” 

His hand tightened around mine as he chuckled, “Winchester…Remington, this must be the gun section.” I giggled along with the joke pumping his hand slightly. Looking up into his eyes crinkled with laughter, I wondered how I could have thought this guy was dangerous. As he slowly released my hand, I felt the stroke of his fingers across my palm which caused goosebumps to run up my arm. The entire world faded away and time was frozen in that first skin contact between us. I saw a slow burn ignited in Dean’s green eyes and the back of my neck tensed in primal response. My focus was strained to an intensity where nothing existed and I fell into those green eyes staring back at me. I stopped breathing and my pupils dilated covering the light brown iris. I couldn’t tell if he felt the same shift in the universe but I knew I had just come face to face with my destiny.

The roar of the jet engines removed any more opportunity to speak as the plane raced down the runway for take-off. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I settled back into my seat and closed my eyes. Slowly my head drifted to the side against my cat pillow, and I fell asleep as the wheels left the tarmac facing slightly towards Dean. Jarred awake to screams and crashing thunder, my eyes flew open as my stomach dropped in sickening response to the sudden loss of attitude of the plane. Whipping my head up, I met Dean’s wide eyes filled with sheer disgust and hatred. I cringed back for a second thinking I was the cause, when my conscious mind broke through and I realized the plane was falling out of control. Fully awake and alert I quickly assess the situation. 

The oxygen masks were hanging down so I grabbed the yellow mouth covering and slipped the elastic strap over my head. I saw Dean doing the same while I heard screams, crying, and chaos all around the cabin. At the same time, we both strapped on our seatbelt and yanked the end strap to tighten them. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I bowed my head and prayed, “Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with Thee…” Next to me, Dean growled, “I can’t fucking believe I am going to fucking die like this!” More lightning and thunder drown out the screaming of the other passengers, and something hit my temple plunging my world into black.


	2. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realization of crash

Spitting sandy grit out of my mouth was my first sign of regaining consciousness. The sun was blazing overhead and the warmth felt nice until I realized I was still strapped into my seat and hanging sideways.  I felt something wet dripping down my face and slowly raise my hand to feel a deep gash down the side of my face.  My travel pillow was still wrapped around my neck and my seat belt was digging into my lower abs.  Squinting from the bright sunlight, I turned my head to take a look around and see my full situation.

The plane obviously crashed, and the tail section where I was strapped was intact round the row where Dean and I were seated. Memory returned and I turned my head towards my right groaning from the pain for moving bruised and strained muscles.  Relief flooded through me as I saw Dean was still strapped into his seat unconscious but breathing.  Carefully moving each limb, I didn't have any broken bones but I was very bloody from the wound on my face. I reached down, brace my legs, and released the seat belt.  Fumbling down between the seats, I narrowly missed falling on Dean but managed to crouch next to him in the crumbled tail section.  I notice that his left shoulder was at an odd angle I quickly recognized a dislocation.  His face was scratched with superficial cuts, and his left leg appeared bent at an odd angle.  Before I could determine if it is broken, he groaned and opened his eyes. The bright sunlight made his eyes appear even lighter apple green and he blinked a couple of times before looking directly at me. “What the hell happened?” he growled.

“Our plane crashed. Looks like the tail section saved our asses.” I replied.  I turned and looked around but could see no one else.  Not even any more pieces of the plane were visible.  It looked like the tail section on our side was ripped away from the rest of the plane and landed in the middle of a god-forsaken desert. Turning back to Dean, who was trying unsuccessfully to get his seat belt undone, I pushed aside his jacket and released the buckle.  The loss of support caused Dean to slump forward into me.  I wrapped my arms around his waist and helped ease him down onto the wall of the plane.  The movement made him groan in pain from the dislocated shoulder so I carefully straightened his long legs checking for any broken bones.  Thank God, the shoulder seemed to be the only serious injury, but I noticed blood on his jacket too. As I reached out to find the source of the blood, Dean reached up with his good arm and pushed back my long brown hair to examine the gash along my face.   “It isn’t my blood, it’s yours.” as if he could read my mind.

I’ve always been real good in an emergency situation, so quickly I began to mentally prioritize my next moves. I stood up to hunt for any first aid kit or material that I could use to make a sling along with something to stem the tide of the blood dripping down my face. I thanked God when I spotted my khaki messenger bag and Dean’s leather satchel just a few feet away on the ground.  Inside my bag, I knew I would find everything I needed to patch us up and get us through the next couple of hours of shock.

I grabbed our bags and brought them back to Dean’s side where he was sitting up and stretching to test for any more injuries on himself. He looked up assessing me quickly before asking, “Do you know how to pop a shoulder back into place?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some first aid skills.” I don’t know why I downplayed my outdoor survival skills, but I got the feeling Dean Winchester wasn’t ready to trust my level of competence.  Opening the flap on my messenger bag, I quickly found my emergency medical kit.  I unzipped the small red bag and pulled out a square piece of thick gauze.  Thank God, I thought to replace the glass bottle of disinfectant with a plastic squirt one or it would never have gotten past TSA.  I tore open a bandage, squirted some alcohol on the bandage, and pressed it to the gash in the side of my face. “Son of a bitch” I yelled.  Dean’s mouth quirked up in the corner at my exclamation.  As I pressed the disinfectant to my cut, I pulled the cat pillow from around my neck.  It was covered in my blood and looked like road kill.  I set it aside with a twinge of regret knowing it was ruined.

“Hand me my bag.” Hugging his left arm to his body, he unzipped the bag and began rummaging inside.  He pulled out a thin white T-shirt and pressed it to the side of my face.  “Ouch! shit!”  I complained but was also touched that he immediately tried to help me first.  Pressing hard for about 30 seconds I got the blood flow down to a trickle, so I removed the shirt and the gauze before it could crust over and stick to the wound.  “Well, that’s not going to come out in the wash,” I said handing the t-shirt back eyeing the large red stain.

Taking a clean section, he stuffed a corner of the t-shirt into his mouth and tilted his head towards the dislocated shoulder. I knelt down next to his hip and reached out with shaking hands; I helped him out of his jacket and flannel shirt.  It was my turn now to tend him, and I had to swallow the sudden lump in my throat knowing I was about to cause him a lot of pain.  Placing my hand on the front of his shoulder and gaining a strong grip on his elbow, I started counting, “One, Two…” and pushed with all my strength popping the joint back into the socket.

“FUCK!” “SON OF A BITCH!” Dean cursed around the section of t-shirt in his mouth, but I could understand every word.

I opened up my bag and found my over-sized navy bandanna. Folding it into a triangle, I tied the ends together and slipped it over Dean’s head.  As he slid his injured left arm into the sling, I took the ruined T-shirt and laid it on the ground.  Finding a broken piece of glass within reach, I quickly shredded the shirt into three inch wide strips.  I made an addition to the sling to keep his shoulder secured. Once I tied the three strips together, I slipped the additional support over his broad shoulders and securely tied his bicep to his rib cage.  Dean just cocked an eyebrow at my actions. Staring up at me he asked, “Where did you come from?” obviously impressed with my ingenuity and skills.  I winked and grinned to say, “West Texas.”

Now that the immediate injuries were taken care of next, I turned my attention to taking care of the shock that I knew we were both about to experience. Standing up slowly and groaning from the various aches and pains from having been in a fucking plane crash, I started searching out blankets.  Angels must have been watching out for us because less than 20 feet away was a section of the plane with one overhead compartment from our side of the plane.  Inside I found a couple of flimsy airline blankets.

Dean gained his feet just as unsteady as I was, but at least standing. Standing side by side, he towered over me by at least six inches. He looked around too but a little further out from the immediate vicinity.  We were standing on a small plateau surrounded by small Joshua trees, cacti, desert shrub, red rocks, and sand.  Slowly turning 360 degrees scanning the horizon, I saw some mountains of bare rock to the east of our position but nothing else to indicate where the hell we were.  Heat waves made everything further than a mile away look shimmery, so I couldn’t get a clear sight of any sort of landmark.  Apparently, neither could Dean because when he looked back to me, there was a hint of worry in his eyes, and his generous lips were pressed into a thin line.

First thing I learned about desert survival was water was life. I searched through my bag and pulled out the two bottles of water that I had.  Handing one to Dean, I twisted off the top of mine and drank a few gulps before closing it.  Dean did the same.  “We better get out of the sun.” his deep voice wasn’t as gruff now that he drank the water.  I picked up my bag and looped it cross-ways over my body.  Dean leaned down, stuffed his jacket and flannel shirt into his bag before grabbing the handles into his free hand straightening up.

Moving around the section of the plane into the shade, we both slid down with our backs against the cooler side of the metal to sit side by side. And then it hit.  The adrenaline that had kept me on my feet and going for the last hour frizzled out and every muscle I had started to shake.  Clenching my teeth together and breathing through my nose, I wrapped my arms around my legs and held on for dear life. Seeing my distress, Dean moved his good arm around my shoulders and tucked me into his side.  Running his hand up and down my arm he tried to ease my sudden panic induced physical overload.  “You did well.  You’re alive.  We survived. We’re gonna be okay…”  The gentle rumble of soothing words that he was saying finally started to make sense to my adrenaline foggy brain.  Taking a shuddering breath, I began to relax and leaned into his welcomed half embrace.  I don’t know how long it took before I stopped shaking, but Dean was like a rock and never broke once.  Hell, was this guy use to almost dying or what, because I sure as hell wasn’t.

The sun had moved on and was falling towards the horizon when I finally got a grip on my nerves. I knew we couldn’t do anything else but stay put through the night, so I turned to look up at Dean’s face. “Rachel, you okay?”  After I nodded, Dean began, “We need to stay here tonight, get over the initial shock.  In the morning, we need to try to find our bearings, so I think we need to head for the mountains to the east.  Maybe we’ll see a road or something and find a way out of here.” 

Since this made perfect sense to me, so I said, “OK, if we can find any sign of a house or something, maybe we can get help. Crap, did you try your phone?”

He couldn’t reach into his jean pocket with one arm in a sling and the other around me, so he tipped his hip pocket up for me to pull out his phone. Turning it over, we both stared at a smashed screen which had pieces missing showing the guts of the phone.  Dean moved his arm from my shoulders and took the phone out of my hands.  “Fuck!” he threw it as hard as he could into the desert.  “What about yours?”

“It must have come out of my hoodie in the crash because I can’t find it.” My voice must have still been shaky and very forlorn because Dean returned his arm to surround me.  I knew the aches and pains were going to be bad in the morning so I just wanted to crash tonight.  Sensing our need to rest and using his bag as a pillow, Dean eased us till we were laying down. I turned on my left side tucked tight against this stranger and feeling safer than I have ever in my life lying on his shoulder with my hand laying on his t-shirt clad chest.  It was warm and I would feel his breath and heartbeat as if it was my own.  I pulled one of the airline blankets over our legs and tried to relax.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime darling” My eyes closed as I inhaled Dean’s faded woodsy scent and I fell asleep thinking this was as close to heaven as I ever been.

It must have been about midnight when I woke up to an unfamiliar rumbling in my ear. It was a little chilly on my back, but my front was warm and toasty like I was lying next to a campfire.  I opened one eye to see a wide expanse of a forest green cotton covered masculine chest under my head.  Dean was snoring which accounted for the rumbling I heard.  Then the sound of coyotes baying at the moon snapped me into full awareness.  Holy Cow, I survived a freaking plane crash.  This just wasn’t reality.  Couldn’t be.  How could I possibly be snuggled up to this gorgeous guy and not be dead?  My breathing quickened and I must have moved slightly because the snoring stopped with a little snort and Dean’s head came up slightly to look down at me.

“uh, hi, cowboy” I whispered which seemed to amuse him because a grin played across his mouth.

“hi. You ok?”

“Yeah, just woke up to someone snoring.”

“I don’t snore!” he growled.

“Well, sorry to burst your male ego bubble, but you do.”

“Fine, whatever.” Changing the subject, Dean asked, “So Rachel Remington, who are you and what do you do?”

Oh God, here goes the life story bullshit that I hate. “How about we do the whole getting to know you thing later, and concentrate on our immediate survival?” 

His eyes widen slightly in surprise because I guess most women he sleeps with wouldn’t turn down the chance to talk about themselves. I’m not like that and in fact don’t really want to share that whole fucked up mess I called growing up.  I think I had my bitch face showing because he began to laugh making my head bounce on his chest. “What the hell is so funny, Dean?”

“You are the first woman to change the subject when I open the door for them to talk about themselves.” Confirming my intuition.  

“Well, I’m realistic and strategic in my thinking, and I just don’t do the whole touchy feely crap.”

“Wow, where have you been all my life?” he smirked but winked at me so I knew he was teasing.

I rolled my eyes at his almost irresistible charm. "Easy there, cowboy. We need each other to survive so let's get through the night first." 

The sense of completeness and being in tuned to one another was a revelation to me. Peace quickly stole over us, and we drifted off again into deep sleep wrapped around each other.


	3. In the desert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> looking for shelter

Sunlight stabbed through my eyelids forcing me into consciousness. It felt like there was a sandbox in my eyes, and they started watering to get rid of the grit.  My head felt like the worse migraine and throbbed right along with my every heartbeat.  The side of my face was like someone was holding a white-hot branding iron against it so the tears became real making my cut face burn even more as the salty tears trailed into it.  I groaned out loud as I rolled onto my back and saw the sun already halfway to the noon apex.

 Fuck! I hurt from head to heels.  The rising heat forced me to sit up and peel off my blood-crusted hoodie.  Shucking off the t-shirt and getting down to my teal tank top I looked over my arms finding large purple splotches.  At least my arms and legs weren’t cut in the crash thanks to all the protecting layers I had worn. I was sitting on an airline blanket next to the tail section of the plane in full sunlight.  Now with the sun bearing down, I looked around but there was no sign of Dean.  His bag still laid next to the plane, so I knew he didn’t go far. Slowly gaining my feet with several groans and whimpers, I went in search of him.  As I rounded the hunk of tail fin, Dean walked over a little rise about 25 yards away into my view.  I watched him approach with an arrogant slightly bow-legged stride holding a bag I didn’t recognize.  I relaxed and enjoyed the view till he stopped in front of me.

Tilting my head back to look into his beautiful eyes, I softly smiled up at him and said, “You should have woke me up when you got up.” For a while, Dean simply looked down into my upturned face without saying a word.  My heart fluttered to notice a sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of his nose.  Unknowingly, my hand raised to touch his cheek.  My gazed lowered to his beautiful lips and was taken by surprise to see a deep frown pulling down his mouth.

“Why should I wake you? I don’t need your help to get us out of this fucking mess. You would just get in my way.” he said curtly.

My eyes widen and I took a step back at his words as if he threatened to slap me. Blood rushed into my cheeks with embarrassment and guilt.  My hand dropped limply to my side.  What the hell?  I stuttered “What?” unable to believe this same sexy, gentle man who held me in his arms last night was the scowling ass standing before me.

“I don’t need a little girl to do anything for me.” He snarled. Tears stung my eyes but I refused to let them fall.  Snapping to attention and throwing my shoulders back hurt like hell, but I pulled myself up to every inch of my 5’7”.  Fine, if he wanted to be a son of a bitch, I survived much worse than some asshole treating me like I was worthless. Rounding on my heel without a word, I turned around and grabbed my bag from the ground.  As I spun to face the mountains in the east, a hand clamped down on my arm causing me to whimper at the pressure on the fresh bruises whipping me back around to face him. “Where the hell do you think you are going?” Dean snarled.

“Anywhere I damn well please. I don’t answer to you or any other asshole, so take your fucking hand off me!” I growled back not meeting his glare.  I had no intention of looking into those green eyes and letting them see how badly he just hurt me. His hand stayed clamped on my upper arm, and I seriously considered throwing a right hook into that sneering face.

“You won’t survive a day in the desert without me, so climb down off your high horse little girl and do what I tell you.” I didn’t know what happened to Dean after he woke up in my arms, but it was obviously ugly and dark and I wanted no part of it.

“Fine, dickhead. We’ll hike out together but you stay the hell away from me.  Touch me again and I’ll fucking slit your throat while you sleep.” I snarled right into his face. His perfectly shaped eyebrows shot up at my words. “Fine.” He grip loosened and dropped from my arm. His left shoulder was still in my bandana sling and the strips of the t-shirt held his arm tight against his chest.  I hoped it hurt.  I hoped it hurt as bad as my heart as it shattered looking into the icy green eyes of Dean Winchester.

Dropping to a knee, Dean opened the new bag after a few seconds struggling to unzip it with one hand. I would have cut off my arm before I helped him so I simply stood there waiting to see what would happen next.  Six individual one-liter bottles of water were revealed and without a word he handed three of them to me.  I put them into my messenger bag and threw the strap over my head to carry it cross body.  I stuffed the crusty hoodie into my bag next and tied my t-shirt around my head turban style tucking my long brown hair underneath. After putting three of the water bottles into his own bag, Dean stood up and saw my turban.  I thought a slight smile formed but was quickly gone in what was becoming to me his familiar scowl and furrowed brow.  Rummaging in his bag, he found a battered cap and pulled it one handed onto his head.  Throwing the strap over his good shoulder, he snapped, “Let’s go.”

I never was good at taking orders from men, so I didn’t move provoking a glare from Dean. He reached out to take my arm again but quickly dropped it to his side when I shot him a go to hell look through narrowed eyes. He turned away and begin striding away on those long legs leaving me gaping at his broad back.  Drawing a shaky breath, I followed the rapidly retreating figure of Dean Winchester, asshole extraordinaire.

Dean’s stride was probably twice as long as mine, and he walked out into the desert like a marine on a mission headed for the next patrol marker. There was no way I was going to wear myself out trying to catch up, so I settled into my comfortable hiking stride and began to appreciate the feel of being physically active outdoors.  It didn’t take long before the tension left my body, and I was able to appreciate the beauty of the desert and the breeze on my skin.  I loved the desert; the fierceness of life here was so much more meaningful to me than any artificial garden or arboretum.  Soon, my breathing deepened into the rhythm of my strides into a rhythm that I could maintain for hours without tiring as the land swelled and ebbed. Topping a small gully, that had me scrambling a little up a steep embankment, I stumbled across Dean sitting on a flat rock in the shade of a small Joshua tree.  “Took you long enough to catch up.” He said sarcastically.

“Fuck you.” I wasn’t even breathing hard from climbing the gully, so I eased down to sitting cross-legged and pulled out my water bottle.  I sat as far away from Dean as the shade would allow, and he noticed with a smirk.  Sitting there in shady silence we both drank water and rested after traveling about five miles from the plane.  I estimated we were about a quarter of the way to the mountain slopes from the crash site.  I realized we were going to have to spend another night in the desert and with Dean being an asshole, I was not looking forward to it. Dean had taken off the ball cap and poured a hand full of water to splash cooling his head.  I almost asked how his shoulder was doing but stopped myself.  I’ll be damned if I speak first to the bastard.  I unwrapped my t-shirt turban and wet it before wrapping my hair back up off my neck.  The cold water felt great on my heated head so I tipped my head back closing my eyes with a deep sigh letting the cool water seep into me. When I opened my eyes, Dean was staring at my throat with a strange look on his face like he couldn’t figure me out.  All I could think was suck it up buttercup.  You missed your chance to find out.

I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to look. From experience, I knew that the majority of the critters in the desert were deadly, so I was always on alert when I was in the desert.  It was a harmless juvenile horny toad which I snatched in my hand before it could scurry away.  My quick reflexes must have alerted Dean because he also looked over to see the reptile before it disappeared in my hand.  Once again, that surprised look crossed his face as he watched the speed of my reactions. I slowly opened my fingers and nudged the toad onto his back to stroke its white belly.  I hummed an old song mindless of everything around me but the memories washing over me of catching horny toads with my older brother, Kyle.

I remembered Kyle’s voice as he told me, “When you rub the bellies they will relax into a pseudo trance state and lie in your palm for hours.” We would catch the lizards around the red ant beds in front of our house and would sit beneath the pear tree in the lazy summer afternoon growing up in West Texas. I bent my head concentrating on the little reptile in my palm humming an Air Supply song. Minutes past with no sound except my humming gently and the wind blowing through the Joshua leaves. I gently laid the creature on the ground next to my leg where he came back to full consciousness and scrambled off.  

Looking up, I caught Dean watching me. My stomach tightened at the hooded smoldering look in his eyes and my breath rushed in and stopped.  For moments we simply looked into each other’s eyes as if we could see past our surface facade into our souls.  I was drowning and falling deep into those green orbs when I jerked back to reality.  What the hell was I doing falling right back into Dean Winchester’s spell! He was an asshole, charming and sexy as hell, but a snake. His lips curled in that smirk that I wanted to slap off his face.  “So, you don’t run squealing over reptiles and can hike over rough terrain for miles?  What else can you do little girl?” 

“Stop calling me that! I am not yours or anyone’s little girl anymore.” I hissed through clenched teeth.

“Sorry darling. How’s that?”

“Try Rachel, you jerk!”

“Fine, Rachel, where did you learn to hike in the desert?” Dean’s voice softened to that deep baritone drawl again which made me want to melt. To keep from making a fool of myself over him again, I took a deep breath and did what I hated to do and talked about myself. “I grew up in West Texas which isn’t really desert, but close enough.  My mom didn’t have the best judgment when it came to men, so my brother and I learned early to get out of the house whenever there was alcohol was around which was every weekend.  I spent every afternoon and weekend hiking through the entire county.  When I left for college, more like when I escaped to college, I started attending survival camps every summer.  I learned any skill it took to survive in the wild everything from campfire cooking to treating medical backwoods emergencies.” Dean listened to me with an enigmatic look on his face but a flutter of some indescribable emotion crossed his eyes.

So I continued, telling him things I didn’t share with another person. Like why I needed to learn how to survive because I didn’t trust any other human being with my life.  I told him about taking self-defense courses and how those skills saved me from an attacker one night walking back to my dorm from the library.  The gun training and knife training I took in grad school so I could protect myself from anything.  How my independence was more vital to me than oxygen.  I told him how I met Bruce Montgomery, and how he saved me by taking a kid headed to juvenile hall and gave me discipline and sense of self-worth.

His expression slowly changed to something close to admiration as I talked. He slid off the rock to sit on the ground in front of me with our knees touching.  I put my hands on the ground to scoot away when he placed a gentle hand on my knee.  I looked deep into his eyes wondering how the hell he could be such a jerk to me this morning, and now be a dream come true.

“Rachel, I am so sorry. You were so calm when you popped my shoulder back into place without even hesitating. When I woke up this morning, you were sleeping in my arms and I’ve never felt such…peace.  It scared the hell out of me.  I thought I was taking advantage of your state of shock and was the lowest fucking bastard.”  He explained. “I misjudged you.”

My eyes flamed into anger and snarled, “Bullshit! You asshole. I was in a fucking plane crash, survived, pull my ass and yours out of the wreckage, and you expect me to believe that line?” It was his turn to snap back like I was going to hit him.

“God, I fucked up.” Dean’s voice was full of self-loathing.

“Yes, you did.” Each symbol was punctuated as it left my lips.  For a few minutes, he was silent, hunched over with his head down so I couldn’t see his expression.  

His head slowly rose and he took a deep breath before saying, “Ok, can we start over?”

Really, was he going to pull another pick-up line on me? I stared into his eyes watching for any hint of screwing with me again.  All I saw in his eyes was an open honesty that begged for forgiveness.  Calling myself every kind of an idiot to trust him again, I sighed and offered my hand, “Howdy, Rachel Remington from west Texas.”

Dean’s hand slowly engulfed mine and he leaned towards me with a wariness like petting a strange dog who you didn’t know if it was going to bite. “Hi, Dean Winchester, from nowhere.”  That brought a smile to my face.  Returning mine with a dazzling smile of his own, I thought oh boy this charmer is dangerous.

“What does ‘nowhere’ mean?” I asked.

“Just that. I don’t have a permanent place unless you consider an ’67 Impala a home.  I move around the country from one motel room to another with my little brother, Sam.”

“What do you do?” I asked suspiciously.

“I don't have like a 9 to 5 normal job. I'm sort of in what you would call a family business. I’m a hunter.  I kill monsters.”  I dropped his hand as if it burned my skin.

Open mouthed, I gaped at him trying to figure out if he was yanking my chain or just plain fucking nuts. Looking into his deadly serious expression, I closed my mouth and my brain went into overdrive assessing this bit of information.  Dean simply sat across from me waiting patiently to see if I accepted the truth or not.

“You kill mon…monsters? Like Frankenstein, monsters?”

“Yeah, except they’re called the Stynes now.” Dean answered nonchalantly.

“Bullshit!”

“You’ve been hiking, camping in the backwoods. Haven’t you ever seen anything you couldn’t explain but you just knew was a monster?”  Dean’s tone was calm and completely factual. Dean’s no-nonsense tone jarred a memory that I had from a couple of years ago camping in the Appalachian mountains with Kyle.  Getting up and leaving the tent after I saw what I thought was another campfire.  Slowly pushing through the underbrush and watching in horror as something not human ripped the throat out of a hiker I had met at the trailhead.  Running back to Kyle to grab my gun, and returning to find nothing but a smoldering fire. Dean must have seen the glazed over look in my eyes of memory because he reached over with his uninjured arm and squeezed my leg giving me an anchor back to reality.

“Oh My God! They’re real! Demons, vampires, werewolves…” I squeaked out.

Dean calmly look directly at me and drawled, “Yeah.”

“And you hunt them?”

A deep “Yeah.” Was his only response.

I felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole into Wonderland where nothing made sense. I was a realist and I didn’t believe in Grimm’s fairytales.  This was just crazy.  I was sitting across from a lunatic who was watching me with a wariness silently waiting for me to jump up and run screaming.  Dean’s honesty so blatantly displayed on his face right then, made my pragmatic brain accept the truth.  I had always trusted my gut and deep down I knew right at that moment looking into his eyes, I trusted Dean Winchester.

My complete acceptance must have shown on my face because Dean’s lips broke open into a stunning smile. Placing his hand on the ground and leaning forward he placed a chaste kiss on my lips. Cradling his sling against his chest, he slowly rocked his lips against mine asking permission to be let inside.  My jaw relaxed, and I opened for his tongue allowing the taste and texture to send my head spinning.  Using his mouth to heal the hurt he had caused, he tilted slightly to deepen the kiss. He tasted salty and masculine, and I returned the kiss with all the forgiveness in my heart.

Pulling back, Dean grunted, “I think there’s a cactus digging into my ass.” Feeling light headed, I giggled, snorted, and then laid back onto the rocky ground for a full body laugh wrapping my arms around my waist. Watching me, Dean let out a full laugh too and then stood up.  Reaching down he pulled me to my feet and tucked me into a side hug to keep his sling out of the way.  I wrapped my arms around his lean waist and hugged him back with my head against his uninjured shoulder.  We stood there for a while allowing all the hurt to drift away on the desert wind. 

Looking over my head, Dean said, “We need to make it to the mountains and find shelter.” Frowning a little at having to let him go, I agreed and shoulder my bag again.  This time, Dean shortened his stride so that we could hike together. After another four hours, Dean and I started looking for someplace to spend the night. Coming across a dry wash, Dean said, "This looks okay."

"I passed a rabbit burrow a little way back, if you can get a fire going, I'll trapped us some dinner." Dean looked up at me in surprise. "What? I told you I had some survival training."  Dropping my bag, I pulled out the survival bracelet.  Untying the para-chord, I  quickly fashioned a slip knot lasso and walked back to the hole in the ground.  It wasn't easy and took a lot of patience, but I knew how to lure out the rabbit and catch it as it emerged just like Bruce had taught me years ago.

As I returned to the dry creek bed, I saw Dean kneeling next to a small fire of brush and bleached Joshua limbs. Taking a piece of glass I had salvaged from the plane wreck, I quickly skinned and gutted the small jack rabbit.  With some small sticks, I stabbed the rabbit through with one of the sticks and laid it across the fire to roast.  When I looked up at Dean, I caught him watching me with a curious expression.  It was a mixture of admiration and tenderness. We drank water and ate the roasted rabbit in silence.  Once the sun went down the temperature began to drop quickly. "If we need to share body warmth tonight, are you going to wake up being an asshole again?" I asked.

"I am sorry about that Rachel." Dean said quietly and sincerely. "Even if I wanted to, I know I couldn't take advantage of you. You probably would slit my throat." He teased.

"You bet your ass, Winchester." I smiled back. I brushed out an area on the slope of the creek bed and spread out one of the airline blankets.  Using mine and Dean's bags as pillows, Dean laid down on the blanket and held out his uninsured arm.  I laid down next to him with my head on his bicep and pulled the other blanket over us.  I would have been happier with a hot shower before sleeping next to this gorgeous man, but I could appreciate just being alive this night. Once again we slept peacefully curled into each other arms.

The morning sun rose over the edge of the dry creek bank and woke me up. My hand was laid on Dean's chest underneath his sling.  His heartbeat was strong and steady and his breathing was slow and deep.  I slipped my hand out carefully trying to not move his injured arm which woke Dean.  Before he opened his eyes and fully woke up, he stroked my arm up and down.  Opening his eyes, he turned and looked down at me. 

"Morning." He said.

"At least you didn't say, good morning, because, quite frankly, this sucks." My response caused Dean to smile.

"Yeah, I've slept in some pretty skanky motels, but at least here I woke up with a pretty girl."

"Smooth, Winchester." I said as I playfully slapped his arm. We got up together and packed up.  As we climbed out of the creek bed, Dean held his hand out and pulled me up the last step. Instead of dropping my hand, Dean kept it, and we walked a couple of miles holding hands.  It was comforting, and I realized I enjoyed holding his big,warm hand as we hiked through the desert landscape.  We talked as we hiked about everything and nothing.  I told Dean about my childhood and the things I had to do to survive, and we quickly realized how much we had in common.

It was dusk when we finally started feeling the slope increasing as we began walking into a shadowed canyon. We were following what appeared to be an old wagon trail, and I noticed bits of weathered wood and broken household items laying in the dust. “Looks like nobody has been here in over a century.”  I stopped and picked up a rusty horseshoe.  Opening the flap of my bag, I placed the artifact inside the hood of my sweatshirt.  Dean cocked an eyebrow at my action.  “For luck,” I said after closing up the bag on my shoulder.

“I don’t believe in luck.” he frowned at his words.

“Well, I am half Irish, so luck is as real to me as angels.” I retorted brightly. Dean grimaced and it was my turn to cock an eyebrow up.

“Angels.” He spat out. “Junkless, sons of bitches.” I really didn’t want to deal with angry Dean again, so I didn’t ask what he meant by that and dropped the subject.


	4. Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce's bunker provides shelter and revelations

With the evidence around us, my hope rose that we’d find an old abandoned cabin or something for the night. My horseshoe must have been in lucky mode, because 200 yards into the canyon, there appeared to be an old silver mine in the north face of the canyon.  Knowing it was dangerous to go poking around in abandoned mines, I had second thoughts about using it as a shelter for the night. “What do you think, Dean?  Abandoned mine tunnel or open air camp out?”

“I’d rather have a rock wall to my back and a clear field of fire in front of me for the night.” He said roughly.

“Wow, you really are a hunter.” I shot him a sideways glance since I knew he didn’t have a gun on him. No way could he have gotten that past TSA at the airport.  He was tense and watching every direction in the growing darkness for danger.  Pulling out the slender LED flashlight I had in my bag, I headed for the mine opening.  After one more look around the canyon, Dean followed me into the tunnel ducking his 6’2” frame to keep from hitting his head.

The entrance was littered with dust, broken support beams, and chunks of rock. Carefully stepping along, I swung the beam from the flashlight back and forth taking in the contours of the rock strata.  The mine’s main tunnel was about eight foot wide and six foot tall and slanted down before leveling out heading deep into the mountain.  I could hear Dean’s footsteps behind me so I walked deeper into the tunnel which curved to the left and narrowed to about five feet wide.  Coming around a corner, the ceiling suddenly opened up to 8 foot and I stopped in front of a metal door completing blocking the mine shaft. Behind me I heard, “What the fuck?” as Dean was able to stand up straight.

The door was high-tech riveted steel and the sides were completely cemented to the shaft walls. I ran the light around the edges and back and forth to get a good look at the obviously modern doors in an abandoned mine.  The hair stood up on the back of my neck, and I could hear Dean’s breathing increase with adrenaline.  Scanning the door, I noticed at the top, engraved in an ornate script were the initials B.A.M.  Holy shit.  B.A.M., Bruce Andrew Montgomery!  We had just discovered one of that son of a bitch’s secret bunkers.  Dean was still carefully examining the doors when I let out a loud “Whoop!” of delight. Dean moved quickly in front of me looking for danger and finding none looked down at me like I had lost my mind.

“B.A.M.” I said the initials as I pointing to the top of the doors.  Dean looked where I was pointing with an exasperated look not knowing why I would be so excited.

“What the fuck is 'bam'?”

“Not 'bam'. B.A.M. Bruce Andrew Montgomery.”

“Who the hell is that? Ex-boyfriend?”  He sneered.

“No, you idiot, he is only THE premier survivalist instructor in the whole United States. He was a Navy Seal who taught survival training to civilians.  He was a hero in Desert Storm and Iraq, and I was supposed to spend two weeks with him next summer.”  That comment brought a mischievous grin to Dean’s face.  “Really, two weeks? Doing what?” he asked suggestively.

“Survival and combat training, asshole.” I responded to his sexist tone. I pushed against Dean’s right arm to get him out of my face, but I might as well pushed against the mine wall. It was just an immovable. I turned around and began hunting along the walls for the lock switch that Bruce had confided to me once existed in all of his bunkers.

Running my hands along the mine walls, Dean asked, “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the lock mechanism. Here hold the flashlight and scan the wall slightly above eye level. Not your eye level, mine!”  Dean snorted at my comment but lowered the beam by six inches moving it along with my hands.  Starting at the door I trailed my fingertips along the rock till I felt the impressions carved into the mine wall of braille dots for B.A.M.

“Thank you, Bruce! I love you!”  I exclaimed as I pressed the lock’s finger holes above the braille.

Smiling like a kid at Christmas, I turned to see Dean’s eyes glaring at me. “What! Oh, jeez, Bruce was killed in a climbing accident so put a sock in your jealous male ego, big boy! Bruce was like a dad to me.  He taught me to survive when things went from sugar to shit and unfortunately that has happened more times in my life than I wanted.”  I could tell Dean was about to ask me to explain, when a grinding sound began within the mine, and we both froze in place.

With a loud click and a scrap of metal on stone, the bunker door swung open a few inches. Dean pulled the door open fully and walked into the bunker’s interior scanning for whatever might be waiting for us.  Knowing that there was no danger, I strolled into the entry room.  Dean was shining the flashlight in wide swiping arcs when I spotted the oil lamps on the floor right inside the door.  Grabbing the handle of the nearest one, I set it down on the wooden table in the center of the room, opened the glass globe, and pulled out the matchbook I had in my kit.  Lighting the wick, I watched as the light filled the small room with a yellow glow.

Sitting on the bare rock floor next to the door were five more oil lamps and a 72-gallon oil drum which I assumed was filled with lamp oil. The wooden table in the center of the room was scuffed and scratched with hundreds of initials, hearts, and a variety of artwork carved into the wood.  I recognized it right away as one of the battered domino tables from the Dixie Chicken, a bar in College Station right across the street from Texas A&M University campus.

At my deep sigh, Dean clicked off the flashlight and set it on the table. “What?”

My face was full of nostalgia since both Bruce and I were Aggies and shared the commonality of playing dominos at the Chicken. So I shared the memory with Dean of Friday night’s playing “42” and drinking pitchers of dark Shiner Bock beer. I softly said, “I can’t believe he is gone.”

“Let’s see what else this place has to offer.” Dean said interrupting my memories. I left the one lantern giving light to the room on the table and grabbed another oil lantern and lit it. Dean closed the bunker door locking it down again and started towards a narrow doorway carved from the rock in the back of the entry room.  There was a small hallway that branched in both directions with open doorways lining the far side.  The whole place was carved straight out of the rock strata and was large enough to not feel cramped. Each doorway was rounded and I giggled because they reminded me of hobbit holes.

“What’s so funny, Rachel?” Dean asked as he intently scanned every nook for danger.

“I am expecting Frodo Baggins to come out of one of the rooms.” Dean snorted at the Lord of the Rings reference.

As I held the lantern as high as I could, Dean looked into the first room. It was a storage room lined with metal shelving and filled with dehydrated foods and other edibles. On the back wall was another doorway opening into what appeared to be a kitchen area.  “Well, at least we won’t starve,” I said.  The next one was a bedroom complete with very sturdy looking oak four poster bed.  I knew right away that it would be a custom made frame to fit Bruce’s 6’6” body with space age memory foam wrapped in plastic that would last forever in the dry desert.  There was a small roll top writing desk against the wall with a spindle antique chair and a tall cabinet with two doors on the other. We both dropped our bags on the ground at the end of the bed before we continued exploring the cave like bunker.

As we reentered the hallway, I heard a sound I didn’t immediately recognize. “Shhhh.” Dean froze as I hissed before he turned his head in both directions down the hallway looking for danger again.

“What?” he whispered in my ear.

“Listen.” The sound of water rushing nearby was unmistakable. Heading towards the sound, we came to the next doorway both of us stared in disbelief.  Carved into the rock floor was a sunken tub like a very large Jacuzzi.  Water was rushing in from a small rectangular opening in the wall on one side and flowing out through another on the opposite side.  Steam was rising from the water in little tendrils.  Thank you, God, for geothermic springs was my silent heartfelt prayer.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Dean exclaimed, but I felt like I had just been offered the moon and the stars. A hot bath, oh yes!  This was freaking awesome. “Bruce was very practical when it came to knowing hygiene was one of the biggest issues for survival,” I smirked.

On the wooden shelves to the left of the door were two stacks of vacuum packed bags that looked like they contained white towels on the top shelf. Below that was a shelf of scented oils in glass bottles with stoppers each containing what I thought might be various herbs and flowers. Bars of soaps some milky white, others of pure amber colored glycerin, for skin, clothes, and dishes filled the bottom shelf. Below was a couple of wash basins and netting that I figured would be used to soak clothes in the sunken tub.  In small bins were nail clippers, scissors, and an assortment of other grooming implements.

“Bullshit! This guy wasn’t a survivalist.  He was a fucking hedonist.”  Dean threw his head back and gave a full belly laugh which echoed throughout the bunker.

Standing there in the moist heat, I realized how dirty and sweaty and disgusting I felt after wearing the same clothes for three days and hiking over 20 miles. Looking around I noticed a hook protruding from the wall.  It reminded me of Kyle and I backpacking through the historic sections of Virginia and seeing the hooks outside the doors of colonial homes for hanging lamps.  Bless you, Bruce, for thinking of everything I silently sent up to heaven. Turning, I hung the oil lantern on the hook and I pulled off my t-shirt turban from my head to let my tangled long hair fall around my shoulders and down my back.  Dean turned to look at me and his eyes dilated as he saw the intentions in my eyes.  Without asking if I minded if he joined me, he pulled off the ball cap and dropped it to the ground on top of my t-shirt.  I grabbed one of the bars of soap and set it on the ground down next edge of the earthen tub.  Dean grabbed one of the vacuum bags and holding it in his hand in the sling, he twisted off the cap letting the bag inflate to pull out two large cotton towels and set on the edge next to the bar of soap.

“Your shoulder?” I stammered as my blood began to race through my veins with the realization that I was about to let my guard down and have sex with this drop dead gorgeous man.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll take care of it and you.” His deep husky response made my knees weaken and hands shake.

With his free hand, he entangled his fingers into the back of my hair and pulled my head towards him meeting my lips with barely restrained ferocity. Barely able to stand on my shaking legs, I wrapped my arms around Dean’s waist and slide my hands under his t-shirt and up his chiseled back.  As our tongues explored and curved over each other’s, I strained up on my tiptoes to get as close to Dean as possible. Since his injured arm was in a sling between our bodies, he took advantage of the position to stroke my left breast with the backs of his fingers.  My nipple tightened and peaked becoming visible under my sports bra and tank top.  Breaking the drugging kiss, Dean straightened up to his full height and looked down at my heaving chest. “Beautiful.” I stepped back reveling in his gaze as I slowly pulled my teal tank top over my head and dropped it to the ground.  His breathing ramped up like he ran a 100-yard sprint while I reached behind me and unclasp the baby blue sports bra.  Letting the straps slide down my arms, I met Dean’s eyes without shame and proudly stood while he looked at my bare breasts.

“Rachel, you are so beautiful.” He groaned.  I gave Dean a slow sultry smile and reached out to help him with his t-shirt.  Careful to not move his shoulder, I held his shirt as he pulled his uninjured arm out.  Working together we get the t-shirt over his head.  Biting my bottom lip, I stared at his smooth tanned naked chest trying to figure out how to got the shirt completely off of him.  Giving up, I grabbed a pair of scissors from the shelves and cut the arm up through the neck opening letting the shirt fall to pool on his boots.

“Well, lucky for me I have a spare.” God, his deep gruff voice is doing things to me that I didn’t know was possible without physical contact. I already felt like I was drowning and we hadn’t even gotten into the water yet. Putting his large calloused hand on my bare shoulder, I held him steady for balance as he toed off his boots. Stepping on the toes of his socks, he pulled his feet out of them one at a time.  God, I never knew that a man’s feet could be sexy, but everything about Dean Winchester was sexy as hell.  Bending at my waist to unlace my own hiking boot, I untied the long laces and stepped out of them, Dean pulled his belt buckle loose with his free hand and slipped the belt from the jean loops.  Dropping it on top of the growing pile of clothes, he unfastened the buttons of his jeans letting them fall down his long legs and kicked out of them.  My jeans and socks joined his, and we both stopped to savor the moment and appreciate just being in this place together. We slipped out of our underwear and step into the water.

Dean’s breath hissed in because the water is so hot. I took note that there was a faint metallic odor rising in the steam letting me know that it is hot spring mineral water and would work magic for our aching muscles.  Placing my hands on his muscled shoulders, I gently pushed Dean onto the shelf seat running along the back just deep enough to cover half of Dean’s chest.  Grabbing the soap, I formed a good lather and moved between his knees to wash his hair and face.  Dean tipped back his head and groaned as I rubbed the soap on the back of his head and down his neck kneading the tense areas.  His right hand gripped my hip to steady me because the water pressure was just enough to make me sway a little in the current.  After washing Dean, I turned and worked up another good lather and quickly finished my own bathing.  He watched every move I made with lazy hooded eyes which in the low light looked almost black instead of the light apple green I knew them to be.

Setting aside the soap, I turned to face Dean. Again, he burrowed his hand into my hair to pull my head toward his.  When my knee hit the shelf where he was sitting, I simply crawled onto his lap and straddled his muscular thighs.  Our lips met in a frenzy and our mouths battled to gain every taste from each other.  The feel of his outer thighs against my inner thighs made my core melt and warmth spread through my body. Without leaving the heaven of feeling Dean's mouth and tongue, I slipped my hand down his chest and wrapped it around his impressive erection. It felt larger than anything I had experienced before but then again I wasn't that experienced as a lover. It was so firm and I found pleasure in feeling Dean's breath break as I stroked him from the smooth head to the thick base feeling the curly hairs against my hand. Dean broke contact with my lips to press kisses down the side of my neck and sucked hard on my neck. A bolt of pleasure ran down my nerves into my lower abdomen, and I felt his hand pressing against my clit and moving in circles imitating the rhythm I was stroking him. Pressing down on his erection, I felt him at my core and eased down onto him.  The stretching sensation and being filled by Dean made me moan into his mouth.  My head fell back as Dean pulled me down onto him till there was no more room left inside me.  I wrapped my arms around his neck and held as tight as I could while I lifted and returned giving him as much pleasure I was able.  While he kissed, bit, and sucked on every inch of my neck and shoulders he could reach, I rode him with a steady pace till the tension building in my lower gut forced me to increase the pace and slide over him faster.  I knew Dean was reaching the same plateau as me from the grip he had on my back and his fingers digging into me to maintain his hold in the slippery water. "Oh God Rachel, you are so good." Dean moaned into my mouth.

At the same moment, Dean and I fell off the tense sexual pinnacle into powerful orgasms. He let loose with a shout that echoed through the bunker and I came with a scream of his name.  As he pumped into me and my inner walls squeezed every drop from him, a white hot sensation began to build in the center of my chest.  It ran through my arms like a lightning bolt down into my hands and into his shoulder where my hand was holding tight.  An electric current channeling through me into him was part of our climax and heightened the experience. Unaware of what just happened, boneless and sated, I slumped down onto Dean’s right shoulder feeling his breathing at first harsh and choppy finally slowing to deep inhales.

“Rachel, what the fuck was that?” Dean’s deep voice sounded suspicious.

“What? The best sex of my life.” The hazy euphoria of aftermath was making my brain fuzzy so I cuddled in and flicked my tongue out to taste his salty neck.

“No, the thing you just did to my shoulder.” I thought he was talking about the taste I just stole but as he spoke he pulled his left arm out of the sling and pulled off the strips of t-shirt that were securing it to his chest. He rolled the shoulder without any sign of pain from the dislocation. My mouth fell open, and I put my hand on it to stop him from moving, worried about the damage he’d do if he tried to move a dislocation before it completely healed. I was still sitting on his lap, so looking deep into his narrowed green eyes, I saw all of the suspicion and wariness he had directed at me.

My spine snapped to attention and my eyes widened in disbelief. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” I started to squirm off his lap and get the hell away from this lunatic, but now he had two good hands to clamp down on my thighs and keep me trapped against him.

“What are you? Witch?” Clenching his jaw tight, Dean hissed “Angel? Demon?”

It felt like he had just slapped me in the face. Tightly I said, “I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about.”

“Right,” God I hated that sarcastic tone of his. “You just climbed up here, rode me like a goddamn cowgirl in a rodeo, and didn’t notice the flash of whatever the fuck it was coming from your hand to my shoulder?”

That was it! Rage flashed through my brain till I could see nothing but a red haze and that damn Dean Winchester smirk. “You son of a bitch!” I pulled my arm back and landed a solid right hook to Dean’s jaw snapping his head back.  Before he could recover, I was off his lap and out of the tub grabbing a towel from the floor on my way out the door. Walking as quickly as I could on the smooth rock floor in my wet feet, I stomped down the hallway and grabbed the oil lamp on the table in the entry room.  Wrapping the towel around my body, I stormed into the cave-like bedroom, slammed the lantern onto the writing desk, and snatched my bag from the floor before throwing it onto the bed.  Pulling out another pair of boy shorts, another TAMU t-shirt, and a peach colored sports bra, I dressed quickly.  It was a little too warm and humid in the bunker, so I chose not to pull on the long cotton yoga pants I still had in my bag.

At a masculine grunt behind me, I spun around and gasped as a wet, dripping Dean leaned against the wall with a towel slung low around his lean hips watching me like a predator. His arms were crossed and his wide stance made me think of the beauty that I admired in dangerous predators. No, I thought, like an angry hunter who had just missed his kill shot. “Go fuck yourself, Winchester.”  I snarled before taking out the last of my water bottles and downing the contents.

“No need, you did a pretty good job of that yourself.” My face burned at his accusation that this was nothing but a casual fuck.  I didn’t do casual, and I sure as hell never did that kind of lap dance with anyone else.

“Well, don’t worry, because that is the last you will ever get from me.” That damn cocked eyebrow of his made the urge to throw another punch into his smug face almost too much to resist.

Dean strolled into the room and picked up his bag. Opening it on the bed across from mine, he pulled out boxers and a clean pair of faded Levi jeans.  Dropping the towel, I quickly looked away from his incredible body.  Since he stopped dressing with only those two items, I thought he must have noticed the humidity from the hot spring too.  He glared at me bare-chested for a full minute assessing me like I was prey with his hands on his hips. All of a sudden I felt drops of cold water hit my face and I jerked my head up towards Dean.  He was standing clutching a flask in his large hand watching me like a hawk. “What the fuck was that?” I yelled at him wiping my dripping face with my towel.

“Holy water.”

“Why the hell did you just throw Holy water in my face?” I snarled.

Without answering me, Dean reached into his bag again and took out a large silver crucifix. Holding it towards me, he demanded, “Take it!”

“Screw you, Winchester.”

“Take it!” he growled low and deep throated.

I just stared at him not moving getting more confused and pissed as the seconds past. When he walked around the bed and grabbed my hand pressing the cross into my palm, I struggled to pull away.  His grip stung on my wrist and I tried again to wrench my hand away.  I started to claw his fingers away and he just tightened his hand grinding my wrist bones together till I yelped and tears sprang to my eyes. Pulling open my hand, he pressed a sharp end of the crucifix making a shallow cut just enough for blood to well up.  Dean examined the skin the silver cross had cut in my palm for several seconds.  I don’t know what he expected to see, but while he was intently looking at my hand, I twisted my arm down and around yanking it out of his grasp.  Before he reacted, I stomped down on his instep with my heel causing him to let out a yell.  Sweeping sideways, I landed a side kick just below his knee causing him to grab his knee.  As he leaned down, I spun and with a satisfying grunt, I landed a shot with my elbow to his solar plexus and smiled wickedly when I heard his breath forced out of his lungs. I stepped back and dropped into a fighting stance when Dean straightened and towered over me glaring.  I spun and landed a heel kick to his ribs, but he grabbed my leg before I got away. He reached down with his long arm and wrapped his hand around my right ankle and yanked me off balance.  I crashed to the rock floor hard enough to get the air knocked out of me and hit my head on the floor making spots dance in my vision.  Dean dropped his full weight landing on top of me so I couldn’t draw in a breath.  Pinning me to the floor with his hands on my upper arms hard enough to make fresh bruises, he wrapped his long legs around mine as I was trying to land a knee in his groin.  He gave me a truly evil hateful glare and snarled, “You finished?”

I just glared at him until I started to feel the world closing in black and knew if I didn’t get oxygen soon, I was going to pass out. I went limp underneath him in surrender. Watching me like I was a poisonous snake, Dean eased just enough of his weight so I could take a gulp of air. “Are you done?”  He growled in my face.

I wheezed “Yes”.

Dean flexed his arms and pushed up. He stood up freeing me but I stayed lying on the floor feeling defeated. “Get up.” He demanded so when I didn’t move avoiding his eyes, he reached down and pulled me up on my feet so quickly my head snapped back making the room spin. Once I gained my balance enough to stand on my own, I snarled “Don’t fucking touch me again, Winchester!”  Dean gave me that look like he didn’t care how much I protested, he was going to do whatever the hell he wanted.  He pulled on a t-shirt with swift movements and turned to glare at me.

“You and I are going to talk, now.” he commanded.

Too tired and depressed to fight anymore, I nodded my head in agreement and followed him out of the bedroom. Dean headed to the bunker door and picked up another lantern to light so I went down the hallway to the right. I passed the combo storeroom/kitchen looking for someplace other than the bedroom for our conversation.  The next doorway opened into a very masculine library complete with full bookshelves lining the walls, dark maroon leather couches, low dark stained coffee tables, various wooden chests, and a table large enough to spread out and do research on. As light flowed into the room, I was painfully aware of Dean’s presence behind me. Wanting to get as far away from Dean as possible, I chose to sit in the middle of the couch facing the doorway. Dean sat on the other couch across from me and set the lamp on the coffee table between the couches.  Watching me through narrowed eyes, Dean said, “So how the hell did you fix my shoulder.”

“I don’t know.” I said bluntly.

“Really? You just touched me and all the aches and pains along with a dislocated shoulder are gone.” The sarcasm in Dean’s rough voice dripped with each word.

At the mention of aches and pains, I realized that I wasn’t sore anymore except for the bruises and bumps from my attack on Dean. “I really don’t know what happened in there.” Jerking my head towards the tub room.  “Something started to burn in my chest and moved down my arm.  I felt it leave my fingertips into your shoulder.  I don’t know what it was.” I couldn’t read Dean’s expression because his poker face was completely blank. I sat on the couch with my head bowed watching my clasp hands.

After several silent minutes, Dean spoke. “So say I believe you? Has that ever happened to you before?”

“What mind-blowing sex with an electric current of healing power?” I snorted.

“Yes, exactly that.” His mouth twitched a little at the _mind blowing sex_ like he wanted to smile.

“No, never.” I hissed.

“Mind blowing sex or the electric current?” Dean’s faced relaxed slightly and his generous mouth quirked up in one corner.

“Neither.” As I spoke, Dean’s eyes widened in surprise at my blunt open response.  Watching Dean’s face, I saw his eyes darting side to side as he begins to reassess our situation.

“Rachel, the bruises on your arms and legs from the crash are gone and your face is healed.” After Dean softly spoke, I glanced down and confirmed his words.  Except for matching masculine handprints on my upper arms, all of the injuries from the plane including the gash on my face were completely healed. My head snapped up to look at him with wide eyes.  I was scared.  This was insane.  Forget normal, this was not natural.  I pulled my legs up and wrapped my arms around me knees to stem the shaking that was starting in my body.  Sympathy flashed across Dean’s face but was quickly suppressed. “Have you ever felt power like that?”

“No, never, no…wait, there was one time. I was about nine or ten. Kyle, my brother, fell out of a tree when we were just kids.  I was swinging on a tire when Kyle landed right in front of me, face down.  He arm was twisted behind his back, and I dropped down next to him.  I was crying and screaming for our mother thinking he was dead. I felt this burning inside my chest, so I touched Kyle’s arm.  He got up like nothing happened and pulled one of my ponytails before running into the house.  I forgot about it because I figured he wasn’t hurt that bad in the fall.  It had nothing to do with me.”  My voice was barely above a whisper and Dean leaned forward to hear my story.

“So, you had no idea that you could do this?” His voice had lost some of the sharp edge.

“No, why would I?” I sniffed as a tear ran down my face. "Nothing like this ever happened to me!"

I guess Dean accepted that I was telling the truth because he stood up and moved over to my couch. Recoiling back because I could read the intention to touch me in his eyes, I simply said, “I told you to keep your hands off me.”  I guess my words didn’t have any heat in them because Dean ignored them and sat next to me on the couch and reached to pull me towards him. Picking me up in his arms, he pulled me on his lap sideways.  I was wound up so tight with tension that he had to coax my hands to unwrap and let go of my legs.  Settling deeper into the couch, Dean wrapped his arms around me and tucked my head under his chin.

“Shhh, darling. Don’t cry.  We will find out what is going on.”  Dean’s soft deep drawl just made the tears start falling faster.  I never cried.  Here I was weeping like a little girl in front of this guy when what I really wanted to do was dump him on his ass.  Worse than that was the fact that I was sitting on his lap half dressed. What the hell was happening to me!  This was twice I broke down in Dean Winchester’s arms. I hated being weak!  I never depended on anyone else for my life.  Taking a deep shuddering breath I whispered, “I’m ok, you can let me go.” I pushed away from his chest but his arms stayed around me.

“I don’t think I can.” Dean breathed into my hair. His voice held a sense of bafflement like he didn't understand what was happening to him any more than I understood my feelings. Accepting that this was stronger than either of us could fight, I relaxed against his chest and stretched out my legs on the couch. I wrapped my arms around him and tucked my face into the side of his neck snuggling into his warmth.

We stayed like that not saying anything and let the quiet surround us. After about ten minutes, I hear, “Grrraaawwwllll”

“Was that your stomach?” I giggled.   “Damn, I’m hungry.” He exclaimed.

“Man doesn’t live by sex alone.”

“That is not the way that line goes, but right now I don’t care because I’m starving.” Dean playfully growled, stood up and started carrying me out of the library in his arms.

“Put! me! down!” My words were carefully punctuated like if I would shatter if I spoke too quickly.  I guessed Dean realized I was reaching the end of my rope because he slowly lowered me to my feet.  He picked up the lantern and followed me through the storeroom into the little kitchen cave.


	5. The Desert Bunker

Finding a wall hook like the other rooms, Dean hung the lantern and looked around. There was a huge cast iron wood stove with a chimney pipe disappearing into the wall apparently venting somewhere outside the bunker. A stainless steel prep table top island was in the center with a row of drawers and cabinet doors beneath.  Opening drawers and cabinets, I found all kinds of kitchen utensils and various cast iron skillets, pots, and pans.  Passing the stove, I found another smaller doorway which opened to a smaller storage cave filled with cords of wood and a large wooden box of kindling and pine cone fire starters.

Seeing the pine cone fire starters wrapped in waxed paper reminded me of Bruce’s first course I took where I learned all the basic camping skills. I thought about Bruce, Kyle, and I sitting around a campfire with a large cast iron pot suspended from a tripod.  Kyle would tie the wicks around the pine cones, I would dip them into the melted wax in the pot, and Bruce would wrap them in wax paper.  Getting amazed again at his preparedness seemed redundant so I simply grabbed a hand full of kindling, a fire starter, and three good sized logs.

Dean sat down at the small eating table with two metal chairs in the corner just watching me move around the kitchen. “Oh no, you don’t.  Get off your ass and help.” I shoved a large kettle at him and pointed towards the door.  “Water!”  Taking the kettle he walked out toward the tub room without a word.

Stacking logs into the stove with the kindling, I found matches in a drawer and lit the wick on the fire starter pine cone which caught quickly. I closed the stove door, adjusted the vent, and turned my attention to finding something in the storeroom to fix quickly.  As I grabbed the powdered eggs and other ingredients to make omelets, grits, and biscuits, Dean returned with the kettle of water and placed it on the stovetop. “If you are going to just hang out while I cook, it is your turn,” I said.

Dean looked at me and asked suspiciously, “To do what?”

“To talk about yourself or no food, Winchester!” I threatened.

He groaned but sat down at the table again and started talking while I fixed us a big meal. Dean began with why he threw Holy water in my face and checked to see if my skin burned from the silver crucifix explaining that they were tests to see if I was something supernatural. “So, you know now that I’m not a demon, shapeshifter, or other monsters.” I guessed. Nodding his head, he continued talking.  

Soon, I learned about his little brother, Sam, and how they hunted monsters together for the last ten years. He talked a little about his parents but I could tell what happened to them hurt him still.  There were stories of demons, witches, Angels, Men of Letters, and Hell. He told me about things that I just couldn't believe like visiting purgatory and being tortured in hell.  People they met and some they lost.  Allies and enemies that changed sides and betrayed Dean.  Some of his stories he told were funny, but most of them just made me sad for all the pain he endured.

When the food was ready, I loaded up two plates and poured two cups of coffee from a percolator I had discovered in the back of a cabinet. Setting the plates on the table, Dean quickly reached out and pulled one of them to him.  “Breakfast for dinner, umm, my favorite.”  He said appreciatively making me strangely satisfied that I pleased him.

We dug in and ate in silence. Dean was still shoveling food into his mouth when I finished and scrapped my plate into the fire. “I cooked, so you wash, Winchester!”  Dean groaned but didn’t disagree.

Walking out, I made my way back into the bedroom. Opening the tall cabinet, I found vacuum bags of pillows, sheets, and blankets, so I made up the bed.  There were two drawers in the bottom of the cabinet with clothes: drawstring cotton boxers that could be worn for various sizes and t-shirts.  Suddenly exhaustion crashed down on me from the past two days.  I crawled under the covers, curled around a pillow laying on my side, and fell asleep in the center of the bed not caring what Dean was going to do for a place to sleep.  The couches in the library were long enough for him, I fell asleep thinking he would go there.

My first conscious thought was how warm and safe I felt. I started for a leisurely stretch when the realization that I wasn’t alone in the bed hit me.  Once again, I was tucked tight against Dean Winchester with my head on his shoulder and our legs entwined.  Since I knew I went to sleep alone, I didn’t feel guilty for waking up snuggled up to the big jerk. His steady deep breathing told me he was still asleep so I could slowly start to study him.  Relaxed in sleep he looked younger since the frown lines and furrows in his forehead were smooth.  His cheekbones prominently angled his face and reminded me of one of the pages in De Vinci’s notebook that I had read about the perfect human face.  Every plane of Dean’s face was perfectly symmetrical.  His lashes were so long any girl would have killed to have them.  His lips were full and sculptured with the little indention above his upper lip.  He needed a shave badly because his dark blonde beard was coming in and looked scruffy.

I was getting uncomfortable staying in one position, so I began to disengage from Dean’s embrace. I had no idea what time it was and at that moment, I just didn’t really care.  He grumbled a few times but never fully woke up so I was able to get out of the bed and pull on my yoga pants.  As soon as I stood up, I had to pee.  Great, I couldn’t remember finding a toilet in the bunker so I left the bedroom in search of one.  Knowing Bruce wouldn’t forget that essential item, I quickly found a bamboo screen in the dimly lit tub room.  It was behind the tub and I easily stepped across the exit channel drain at the end of the tub to reach it.   There was a bench seat behind the screen with a hole suspended over the flowing water downstream from the Jacuzzi.  Biodegradable toilet paper was located on a set of smaller shelves next to the bench.  I thought Bruce was a genius.

After washing my hands in the sunken tub, I located a toothbrush still in the packaging and some tubes of Colgate. Next came the chore of brushing out my long hair.  It was a mess and badly tangled in huge knots.  After a long time, I pulled the last tangle out with my brush and braided it over my shoulder tying the end with a piece of silk ribbon I found in the bins. A little cornstarch powder under my arms and I felt almost human again.

The need for caffeine had me in the kitchen next making a pot of coffee. The enamel blue percolator was just like the one Kyle and I use camping with the speckled white dots. Matching mugs were on a shelf above the wood stove, so after starting the fire from last night coals, I got a pot going along with a beef stew in a large cast iron pot. After pouring my cup fixing it with creamer and Splenda, I nibbled on a biscuit leftover from dinner.  Breakfast done, I headed into the library. I loved the smell of binding glue, paper, and old knowledge that seeped around every library which was why I chose to major in English in college.  Running my finger along the spines, I was surprised at the titles:  Demonic Possession in the 19th Century, Tribal and Occult Symbols, The Latin Vulgate Bible, Ancient Witchcraft in Ireland.  What the fuck!?  Why in the hell would Bruce have these books kept here? I felt Dean come into the room like a magnetic pull to his very presence in the center of my chest.  Turning around I saw the furrowed line between his brows and a deep scowl indicating Dean was in a bad mood.  I sighed, “What the hell did I do now, Winchester?”

“I woke up alone and thought you left.” He growled sleepily.

“Sorry to disappoint you but I’m still here.” He looked at me for a minute before crossing the room and wrapping me in a tight hug. My cheek dug into a button on his flannel shirt that he was wearing because he pressed my face to his chest tightly.

“Look, Winchester, I’m getting tired of the emotional yo-yo from you, so I want a truce.” My words were muffled against his chest since he was holding my face to him. I know he heard me because he pressed his lips to the top of my hair and said “Ok.” Just that one little word and the tension between us melted away.  Dean leaned back a little and put both hands on my face tilting it up. “Ewwww, morning breath, cowboy.  Go brush your teeth!” I complained. Throwing his head back he let loose a full belly laugh. Rubbing his hand along it jaw, he said, “I think I’ll go shave too.” Leaving me in the library, he headed for the tub room.

Going back to exploring the library, I found an illuminated manuscript on one of the center shelves that looked similar to the Book of Kells obviously from the 12th century. Carefully pulling it to take it off the shelf for a closer look, it seemed to catch on something so I pulled a little harder tipping the top towards me.  Unexpectedly, the whole bookcase moved and slid opened towards me.  Barely making a sound as it moved, I noticed that the mechanism must have been well greased.  Pushing the hidden shelves completely open, I grabbed the lantern off the table to see what secrets lay behind the bookcase.

The largest single arsenal of weapons I had ever seen in my life lay in the hidden room. Guns of all sizes and models were secured on a black rack with metal hooks all down the right wall for about 15 feet. There were revolvers and semiautomatic handguns.  Bolt action rifles, AK-47s, military machine guns, sniper rifles, and shotguns were lined up in a row below the pistols.  Next, I saw swords, knives, machetes, and even battle axes along the back wall.  Riot gear, bullet proof vests, ammunition of a mind-numbing variety, and even grenades were in neat stacks on shelves along the other wall.  Bags of rock salt and the salt used by road crews on icy highways were sitting on the floor. Before I could move further into the secret cache of weapons, I heard Dean returning to the library, “Rachel where are…What the fuck?”

I turned to see him standing next to the open bookcase freshly groomed and shaved. “Welcome to Bruce Montgomery’s arsenal.” I held my hands out to my side swinging them slightly encompassing the entire room. Dean quickly scanned the room with a familiarity of knowing the quality of weapons in the room.  He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling and broke out into a huge grin.  Following his gaze, I looked at the ceiling to see some kind of symbol spray painted in red on the rock.  It was a circle with what looked like Celtic runes in the four quadrants.  There were other symbols that I didn’t recognize in various patterns within the surrounding circle.

“What the hell is that?” I asked in amazement of the complexity of the design.

“A devil’s trap.” Dean said like it was perfectly normal to find one here.

“A what?!?” I repeated in amazement.

“A devil’s trap. It traps demons.”

My mouth fell open, “Bullshit! No way”

“Yeah, I recognized several of the books in the library too on my way in. Your mentor Bruce was a hunter.”

“But I thought he was just a survivalist?” I wasn’t able to keep the confusion from my tone.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, darling, but Bruce Montgomery was definitely a hunter and from the looks of this place, he was a damn good one too.” Dean said.

Over the next hour, Dean checked all the weapons in the hidden room while I sipped my coffee on the couch and tried to come to terms with the revelations of my mentor and my past. How could I not know that Bruce who was like a dad to me was a hunter?  He trained me to be a survivalist but I was beginning to suspect that was all a cover for something darker and more sinister. Occasionally Dean would let out an admiring low whistle as he explored the room's inventory.  Finally, he came out of the arsenal carrying two 9 mm Glocks, several loaded clips, two wicked looking knives with strange engravings, and a machete.

“Really?” I said with an exaggerated sigh nodding towards the weapons.

“Sorry, darling, but I have felt naked these past three days without my gun.” He grinned.

“For what….me? Cause you dumped me on my ass yesterday without any weapons.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. You almost had me on my ass first.  By the way, you have some impressive fighting skills and a very fine ass.” He peered sideways at me.

I couldn’t help but laugh. It dawned on me that the news that Bruce was a hunter was a stroke of luck.  “Maybe there’s something here that explains what happened between us, like how I fixed your shoulder.” I was getting excited about finding some answers.  Dean gave me a wink and huge smile. I got the feeling he wanted answers as badly as I did.  Leaving the weapons on the coffee table, he reached out and closed the hidden bookcase door, and we started pulling books off the shelves to read.  I settled at the long table, and Dean propped his feet on the coffee table holding a book in his hands. I found some legal pads and mechanical pencils in a drawer under the table and began taking notes like I was researching for my thesis. After several hours of pouring over research, Dean stood up and stretched raising his arms over his head with a deep groan, I heard several vertebra realign in his back and neck.  “Enough, for now, I’m starving again.” he declared.

“Then you will be thrilled to know there is a huge pot of beef stew simmering on the stove that I put together this morning.” I smiled up at him from my spot on the couch.

He took my hands and pulled me to my feet. This time when he put his hands on my cheeks I didn’t push away.  Looking deep into my eyes, he lowered his head to kiss me.  Like a match to a fuse, passion exploded between us.  Before I had a coherent thought, I was flat on my back on the couch with Dean lying between my thighs.  I had no idea how he got me undressed without me noticing, but he was already easing into me and plunged forward in one savage stroke.  I screamed and dug my nails into his biceps that were flexed on either side of my head.  Dean grunted and began driving us both to climax.  I was mindless to everything but pushing up to meet his every thrust to deepen our mutual pleasure. I was bucking under him as he pounded into me.  I screamed his name as he let out a yell with his head thrown back, baring his teeth, and every muscle tensed like steel.  As before we reached climax together and I clamped down on him as he poured into my depths.  The white hot burning started in my chest and quickly ran down my arms into my fingertips where the electric current flowed directly into Dean’s biceps.  He jerked up and stared down into my face in shock.  As the energy left me, I slumped back onto the couch panting for air completely drained.  Dean collapsed onto me and laid panting for a minute.  He moved and rolled me from underneath him till I was laying across his chest boneless and limp.  He stroked my braided hair and took deep breaths. After our breathing returned to normal, Dean mused in a deep voice, “Maybe your power is connected to us having sex.”

Taking a shaky broken breath, my husky reply was, “Great! What, I have porn magic?” I asked. I started giggling and then laughing hard. Dean started laughing too bouncing me up and down on his chest.  Swatting my bottom playfully, he said, “Food, woman!”

“Winchester, you are asking to be poisoned.” I teased. Dean made a face of mock horror and I burst out laughing as I got up from the couch grabbing my clothes which were tossed around the room. After we dressed, Dean followed me into the kitchen and took a seat at the table.  I filled two steaming bowls with the thick stew I made out of dehydrated meat and vegetables with my own blend of herbs.  Dean’s smile was like watching the sun emerge on a cloudy day when I set the steaming bowl down in front of him.  Sitting across from him at the small metal table, I picked up my spoon and plunged it deep into my bowl.

Dean blew across a spoonful of stew before carefully taking a bite, “This is awesome.” He mumbled.

“Ewwww gross, don’t talk with your mouth full.” I scolded him with a grin.

Dean swallowed and said surprised, “You really are amazing with having just this to work with.” He waved a hand indicating the wood stove and ration packed storeroom.

I beamed with his praise, “You should try my cooking when I have fresh ingredients.”

With a wink, Dean said, “When we get out of here I’ll take you up on that offer” and went back to stuffing spoonfuls of stew into his mouth. I hesitated and thought about how he said “when” and not ‘if’. Of course, we would have to find a way back to civilization and our real lives.  A small twinge of sadness touched my heart since I just started to enjoy being alone with Dean Winchester.

Dean noticed that I had stopped eating and the small frown I had. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid.” I said. “Talk to me.” Dean’s command was so different than the last time he said that to me. It was soft and encouraging.

“I just realized we’ve been so occupied with having fantastic sex and discovering I‘ve had some weird magical power, I forgot for a second we also need to find a way home.”

“Yeah, I bet Sam’s losing his mind thinking I died in that plane. Let’s spend today resting up and reading.  Tomorrow we’ll work on finding a way back to the world.”

Teasingly I retorted, “Who put you in charge, Winchester?”

“I didn’t hear any complaints of my taking charge half an hour ago when I had you flat on your back on the couch.” My face burned with embarrassment and he just smiled back at me.  “Cute, even your ears turn red.”

“Jerk!” I laughed meeting his sparkling eyes. We settled back into eating in silence.

After stoking the fire in the stove to keep the stew simmering for supper, Dean and I returned to the library. Refilling our coffee cups several times while we read in comfortable silence over the next several hours with Dean sitting on the couch while I studied old manuscripts at the long table. Standing quickly, Dean said, “I got something.”  He approached my table and carried a book he had been reading and laid it in front of me.  Marking a passage with his finger he leaned over my shoulder and pointed to a poem next to a pencil drawing of a woman kneeling next to a man with her hands on him.  There were rays of light or energy flowing out of her heart into the prone man’s body.  I read the poem out loud:

A Healer will come out of pain.

Grace will flow from God’s love.

From her hands to His children.

She will be saved and be savior.

To him with Cain’s mark to save all.

I looked up at Dean. Without a word he rolled up his long flannel shirt sleeve and turned his forearm so I can see a bright red raised scar that looked like a brand below his elbow.  I don’t know why I never noticed it before and reach out to trace it with my fingertips.  It was puffy like a whelp and felt hot. Dean’s skin twitched as I touch the skin but then froze as I explored the mark.  With wide eyes, I looked back up. “The Mark of Cain” he answered my unspoken question.  He told me the history of the Mark and how he came to have it from Cain himself.  I stared in disbelief.

“What does that mean?” I spoke softly just above a whisper struggling to believe.

“I don’t know, but one thing I do know is that since you did your magic thing to me, the Mark has faded slightly. Not just the physical mark, but I feel different too. Calmer.” Turning back to the book, I turned the pages trying to find more information about where the poem and drawing came from.  Flipping through the pages, I found the translation notation in the first few pages.  The book was a collection of prophecies written by a hermit monk in 7th century Gaul.

“Does this mean I am the Healer in the poem and we were destined to meet each other?” my voice was filled with wonder.

“I don’t believe in destiny.” Dean’s harsh tone made me wince. He picked up the book and slammed it shut.  “Fate, that bitch, has no control over my life.” He growled. The debate between free will and fate was something I thought about all my life.  Dean obviously had a very strong opinion about destiny so I didn’t mention how I felt a connection to him the minute we bumped into each other at the Austin airport.

“This doesn’t explain how I heal or transfer energy or whatever it is I do, but I’m pretty sure God’s grace doesn’t include fantastic sex.” I said in a deadpan tone.

Dean relaxed and smiled when I said that. He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me towards him.  “Rachel, you are …” I don’t know what he was going to say because leaning down and bracing his hands on the arms on my chair, he captured my lips in a deep kiss.  Sliding his mouth against mine, I immediately opened to him causing him to groan into my mouth.  He plundered my mouth and I wrapped my arms around his neck.  He pulled me up into his strong arms. “I can’t get enough of you.”  Dean groaned wrapping his arms around me, he held me tight against his perfect body.

We stood to hold each other savoring the peace we had found with one another. After a long time, Dean eased his hold on me.  “Let’s eat dinner, and we’ll figure out what to do next,” I suggested. We walked into the kitchen and ate the savory stew not really talking but just enjoying the food and being together.  I helped Dean wash the dishes afterward, and we returned to the library.

Not feeling like reading anymore, I started exploring more of the library. Opening chests and cabinets, I picked up various items, studied them, and then returned them.  Dean was looking into the same types of containers on the opposite wall when he exclaimed triumphantly, “Hell, yeah!”  Standing up and turning towards me he held up a dusty bottle of amber liquid with a very old label and two cut crystal glasses in his hands.  I smiled at his enthusiasm and showed him the item that I had found, a six string acoustic guitar.

Placing the glasses on the table, Dean broke the seal on the bottle and poured two fingers of Irish whiskey in each glass. Bringing the drinks over to where I was sitting at one end of a couch, Dean set one glass on the coffee table within my reach.  As he settled on the other end of the couch he took an appreciative sip from his glass.  I took the guitar and starting tuning and tightening the strings. “You play guitar, too?  Dean raised an eyebrow when he asked.

“A little. Another of those hiking/camping skills I learned from Bruce.”  I replied without raising my head from the task of getting clear notes from the strings. I started strumming one of the few songs I knew.  Dean closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the couch when I started to sing the Beatles’ "Hey Jude".  I could see that he was remembering something painful by the deep frown on his face, but I kept singing.  When he opened his eyes watching me play the guitar, a single tear slipped down his face before he quickly wiped it away.  I know the emotions I felt for him were shining in my eyes as I sang to Dean.  When I strummed the last chord, Dean tossed down the rest of his whiskey and grabbed the bottle to pour another.  His voice was husky with emotion when he asked, “Can you play anything else?” 

Taking a hefty shot from my own glass, I appreciated the warm burn as the whiskey went down my throat. I picked up the guitar again and played my favorite song, John Lennon’s "Imagine".  Letting the whiskey work its relaxing magic, I played and sang every slow song I knew including a rendition of "Carry on Wayward Son" by Kansas. I set aside the instrument and picked up my glass.  Naturally flowing over, I snuggled up against Dean’s chest.  We drank our whiskey in comfortable silence.  When we reached the comfortably buzzed state, we got up and went to bed like we been together for years rather than days.

This became our routine for the next several days. We read in the library during the day and explored the depths of our passion during the nights.  Since every time we slept together, the same powerful current went from me to Dean, he seemed less burdened by the Mark with each experience.  He even slipped one time while he talked to me and called me “Healer”. We didn't think about finding a way out of the bunker as we became absorbed with being together.


	6. Back to the real world

Awareness of cotton sheets against my bare skin was my first thought as I floated up into full consciousness. Opening my eyes and blinking, I saw Dean’s large bicep and bare chest next to my face.  He was sitting up against the headboard propped on several pillows reading the book of prophecies. “Morning, darling.” He smiled down at my sleepy expression.

“How do you know its morning? We don’t have a watch, clock, or phone and haven’t been outside in two days.” I grumbled.

Dean smiled down at my grumpy morning expression, and said, “You’re right. A little fresh air would be a good idea.”

Dean rolled over till my head was cradled in his large hand and began to slowly lean down watching my mouth the whole time. I felt his breath on my lips before the warm pressure of his full mouth was on mine.  The kiss was gentle and the friction as he slowly turned his head back and forth was so sweet as if asking permission.  I eased my arm from between us and placed my palm on the back of his neck slowly pulling him closer.  My fingertips stroked the edge of his hairline and he increased the pressure on our lips.  He tasted like heaven making me again question if I had died in the crash, but once I felt his tongue slide pass my lips, I knew reality was a lot better than heaven.  For a long time, our mouths melted into each other exploring the textures and tastes.  He tasted so good like honey laced bourbon, and it felt wonderful as our tongues danced and curled around one another.

I felt Dean's hand move from behind my neck and around my shoulder to gently cup my breast. His open mouth moved along my cheek and down my neck to the bundle of nerves my shoulder and bit down. I moaned with the pleasure that drenched between my thighs.  Dean's fingers moved down my stomach and slid into my very wet core.  Easing two of his long fingers into me and sketching caused me to arch my back and groan at the soreness he was causing.

Dragging his mouth away from mine and panting a little out of breath, he pushed up onto his elbow and looked down into my pleasure sated eyes. My heart was about to pump right out of my chest when I saw the slow burn from when we first touched was flamed into passion, and I saw his pupils were dilated snuffing out the green.

“Holy shit, you are so hot.” Passion had deepened Dean’s voice to a husky drawl.  “Rachel, if we get out of this, I definitely want to spend some time getting to know you.”

“How about we take it one day at a time?” was my response drawing his head back down for another drugging session of melding mouths. I groaned into Dean's mouth from the pain and pleasure he was giving with his fingers. I pulled his wrist away from my aching center and as I sat up I groaned since I was a little sore from Dean’s rather rigorous nocturnal exercises.  The memories floated through my mind of how Dean looked as he gave me pleasures I had never imagined.  Returning the favor, I worshiped his gorgeous body with my hands, mouth, teeth, and tongue.  When the white-hot burning began in my chest, I held tight to Dean’s forearm, placed my palm over the Mark of Cain, and directed all the energy through my hand on top of the Mark.

"I need a long soak in the tub." I told Dean as I swung my legs off the side of the bed and placed my bare feet on the cool rock floor. When I stood up, it took me a minute to see if my shaky legs were going to support me.  Before I could fall on my face, Dean scooped me up into his arms and carried me to the sunken tub.  The heat of the water felt wonderful and I curled into Dean’s lap with my arms around his waist. With a deep sigh, I whispered, “This is heaven.”

“Pretty close” was his reply.

After soaking away all the previous night’s soreness, we made breakfast and dressed to head outside the bunker. Unlocking the door, Dean pulled it open and made a grand bow as I passed.  Giggling at his attempt at fake chivalry, I pressed my hand into his as we exited the mine entrance into the blinding desert sunshine.  Spending a few hours exploring the canyon and finding nothing to help us get out of there or signal for help, we returned to the bunker to eat lunch and get out of the desert heat.  As we walked side by side into the dark main tunnel a shiny reflection caught the corner of my eye in the opposite tunnel to the bunker.  Stopping Dean, I quietly alerted him, “I saw something flash down there.” I pointed to the branching right tunnel.

Dean immediately reached into the back waistband of his jeans and pulled out one of the 9 mm handguns from Bruce’s arsenal. Lying a finger across his lips telling me to be quiet, he pushed me behind him and charged the chamber with a bullet.  As quietly as possible we moved into the other tunnel.  We had only gone about 25 yards when a door identical to the bunker prevented us from going further.  Dean motioned me to find the lock mechanism.  Again running my hands along the wall of the mine, I found the Braille initials and the finger holes to trigger the lock.  The new door opened exactly like the first.  Dean held the flashlight supporting his firing hand holding the 9 mm.  Slowing walking forward he cautiously examined the interior.  Unlike the bunker, this was a single room and right in the center was a black Harley Davidson motorcycle with deep trend tires meant for the desert. With the realization that we had found our way home, I threw my arms around Dean’s neck laughing with delight as he swung me around in celebration.  After setting me back down, Dean asked, “How fast can you pack up?”

“Fast!” I grinned up at him.

“Let’s go.” We hurried back into the bunker to gather up the few things we had from our bags. We worked together to put the bunker back the way we found it.  When Dean was in the library putting the weapons he brought out of the secret arsenal into his bag, I joined him.  Picking up the book about the prophecies, I put it into my messenger bag.

“Ready?” he asked. Nodding my head, I took one last look around.  Knowing that the time here with Dean had been precious and was coming to an end, I got a little down.  Dean must have sensed my musings because he came up behind me and wrapped his strong arms around my shoulders.  I lifted my hand to hold his arms and said, “Nothing lasts but I will never regret being here with you.”

“I’m not letting you go, Rachel, so you can stop talking like you can get rid of me so easily.” Dean spoke softly against my hair.  Pushing my hair aside, he kissed the side of my neck below my ear.  Leaning back, I dropped my head to his shoulder giving him more access to my neck where he slowly bit down on the bundle of nerves that made my knees buckle.  Slipping his arm around my waist to support me tight against him, he leisurely explored all the exposed skin with his lips.

“Dean, please.” I moaned not knowing if I was asking him to stop or keep going. Groaning Dean stopped and slowly dropped his arms from around me.  I swayed a little before taking a deep shuddering breath to calm down.

“Damn.” Dean growled. “I need you, Rachel. I’ve never needed anyone so much.” A cold shiver ran down my spine at this words, and I didn’t like the sensation. Picking up our bags, Dean and I left the bunker.

When we got to the Harley, I put the bags in the saddle packs on the back of the bike. Dean swung his long leg over and pushed out the kick starter.  Jumping down hard and cranking the accelerator, the bike roared to life while Dean revved the engine.  Placing my hand on his shoulder, I stepped on the foot peg, and threw my leg over the back of the bike and wrapped my arms around his waist.  Revving the engine again, Dean let the rear tire spin throwing dirt up into the room before dropping down into first gear and sped out of the mine tunnel. Heading south through the desert, we came to a county road after about an hour.  Recognizing a state road sign for Nevada, we finally had our bearings.  Without asking me where I wanted or needed to go, Dean headed east.  Since any conversation was almost impossible on the back of the Harley, I decided to simply hang onto Dean and go along for the ride. 

After nightfall, Dean pulled into a small town motor lodge and parked the bike outside the office. I had no idea where we were and the rumble of the engine and the heat from Dean’s back, had me drifted into a mind numbing stupor riding on the back of the bike.  He got off the bike and walked into the motel office without a word.  I was tired and felt like an inch of road dust was covering my body.  Less than 5 minutes later, Dean returned with a room key dangling in his hand.  He was smiling which made me immediately suspicious so I asked, “What’s funny?”

Sheepishly, Dean said, “That’s the first time I checked into a motel with someone and specifically requested a room with a king size bed instead of two doubles.” With those words, all of my worry about adjusting to Dean in the REAL world fell away and I relaxed. Smiling up at him, I hopped off the motorcycle and opened the saddle packs.  Dean leaned past me and grabbed the handles of both bags to carry them into the motel.  

The next morning we were up, dressed, and on the road by seven a.m. Dean appeared even happier after another night of energetic sex and my strange healing ability.  He was smiling and couldn’t seem to stop touching me for more than a few minutes.  A caress on my cheek, a quick kiss, or a tight hug I received every few minutes made a sense of unease slide into my spine. 

We rode into Lebanon, Kansas late in the afternoon and headed north for about 15 miles. Dean turned the bike onto a single lane dirt road choked with weeds.  Slowing and coming to a stop outside of what looked like an abandoned factory built into a hillside, Dean cut the engine.  He sat on the bike stroking my hands that were wrapped around him taking deep breaths.  He brought my hand up and placed a kiss in the palm of my hand before standing up and easing down the kickstand.  Tipping the bike to the side, Dean dismounted.

“Time to face reality.” Dean made that enigmatic statement as he opened the saddlebags.  I threw my leg over the back of the bike and stood up to stretch my cramped muscles.  Dean entwined our hands close together as we headed towards a door buried into the side of the hill.  Opening the door to a landing at the top of a metal staircase, we stepped inside and he closed the door behind us.  I looked down into an exact replica of a World War II bunker war control room complete with table top map.

“Welcome to the Men of Letters bunker.” Dean said to me before he yelled, “Sammy!”

As we walked down the curved staircase, a tall lanky man with shoulder length brown hair and a few years younger than Dean, came running from the rear doorway. “Dean!” he yelled back. At the bottom of the stairs, Sam, obviously the brother Dean had told me about, grabbed Dean in a bear hug almost picking him up off his feet.  Dean was grinning ear to ear and slapping Sam on the back while they clung to each other before breaking apart.  They both studied each other closely judging their well-being.

“I thought you were on the plane that crashed last week! You were supposed to be on that flight to Seattle!  Where the hell have you been? I thought you were dead!” Sam spoke quickly.

“I was or rather WE were on that plane.” I had been standing back while the brothers were celebrating Dean being alive. Dean looked back at me and held out his hand.  I stepped forward, took his hand, and stood by his side. “Sam, meet Rachel Remington of west Texas.”

Sam’s eyes widen noticing me for the first time and Dean’s obvious affection in his voice as he introduced me. Holding out my right hand since the left was curled around Dean’s, “Nice to meet you, Sam.  I’ve heard a lot about you.”  I had to tip my head back to meet Sam’s eyes since he was about three inches taller than Dean.

“Nice to meet you.” Sam said curiously and took my hand gently pumping it up and down.  Sam was studying me like I was a newly discovered rare species without letting go of my hand.

Dean interrupted Sam’s appraisal and said bluntly, “Alright, enough. She’s with me.” removing Sam’s hand from mine.  Sam’s eyes widen and then narrowed with deep speculation.  After just a few seconds, Sam winked at me messing with Dean who growled like a grumpy cat.  I knew I was going to like Sam.

“Let’s drop our stuff, get a beer, and we’ll tell you everything.” Dean said as he pulled me further into the bunker’s interior. Passing through a library that looked suspiciously like the one we had just left a day ago, we headed into a tiled hallway.  Everything looked sterile and institutional to me until Dean opened one of the hallway doors.  It was apparently his room with wood furniture and neutral masculine colors.  As he dropped the bags on the bed about half the size of Bruce’s in the" desert bunker, I took the opportunity to explore his personal space.  The walls had various weapons hanging from hooks, and the desk had an antique stapler, an old tape dispenser, and industrial looking lamp on it.  Lying on the small utilitarian couch were a couple of porn magazines that I barely got a glimpse of scantily clad Asian women before Dean snatched them up and tossed them into the desk drawer.

I started snickering which quickly turned into a full belly laughing fit at the blush climbing up Dean’s face. Sam was standing in the doorway witnessing the whole scene and was laughing as hard as I was.  Dean scowled at both of us laughing lunatics and grumbled, “Shit! I need a beer.”  Pushing past Sam, he disappeared down the hallway leaving Sam and I laughing even harder.

Once we finished laughing so hard my stomach hurt, Sam walked with me back to the library where Dean was already sitting in a chair at one of the long tables drinking out of a dark brown long neck bottle. Sam took a seat across the table from Dean and picked up one of the unopened cold, sweating bottles Dean had left on the table.  While I stood trying to decide where to sit, Dean pushed out the chair next to him with his foot, so I walked to his side of the table.  Taking a beer for myself, I twisted the top off and took a long drink of the dark Shiner Bock beer. Sam looked first at Dean and then me when he said, “Ok, who’s going to tell me what happened?”

Taking a long draw on his beer, Dean began the story with us meeting in the airport. He described the crash and his dislocated shoulder.  Sam leaned forward when Dean went into detail of Bruce’s desert bunker.  Leaving out the more private and intimate details of our relationship, Sam still got the idea that we were sleeping together and that was connected to my special healing power. “So, Bruce Montgomery was a hunter,” Sam said curiously.  He stood up and got a large book that looked like an old accounting ledger.  Bringing the book to the table, Sam opened it.  Scanning columns of names and other notations, Sam exclaimed, “I thought I remembered that name.  Bruce Patrick Montgomery, Men of Letters inducted 1945; one son: Bruce Andrew Montgomery.”

“Holy shit!” my surprised shout echoed through the room. “Bruce was a hunter AND a legacy of the Men of Letters like you two,” I said incredibly. “I don’t believe this.  I knew him my whole life. How can all this mess be so tangled up?  What the hell does this have to do with me? What the hell am I supposed to believe?” I said forlornly.

Dean looked over at me with sympathy in his eyes and stroked my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “If you need something to believe in, believe in me.  In us.”

Sam’s mouth fell open in surprise at Dean’s words and actions. He watched me like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve.  His eyes narrowed assessing me, “What was the name of that hermit you mentioned who wrote prophecies?”

I got up to get the book out of my bag in Dean’s room. As I was coming back I heard Sam’s voice lowered and his deep growl.  “What do you know about her?”

“I know enough.” Responded Dean a little heated.

“Can you hear yourself? She’s got some kind of spell or hex on you!”

“Leave it alone, Sammy.”

“Dean you are not acting like you. You and Rachel survive a high-altitude crash in a 747 and now you are acting like you’re falling in love with a woman you met less than a week ago!”  Sam’s voice rose in volume as he spoke. I heard Dean’s chair scrap back as he stood to glare at his brother across the table with his hands fisted on the top. I walked back into the room as the brothers were scowling at each other menacingly.  Since I didn’t want them to know I had been listening, I smiled as I brought the book to the table and looked from one to the other waiting for them to sit back down.  As soon as Dean sat, he lounged back into his chair and purposely placed his arm on the back of my chair sending a clear message to Sam.

With a sigh, Sam asked me to show him the page that we believed made reference to the Mark of Cain and the Healer. After reading the short poem, Sam got up and retrieved another book from the library shelves.  Returning to the table, Sam opened the book and flipped pages quickly finding the section he wanted. Turning the book around so Dean and I could see the same pencil sketch of the man and woman as in the first book with a longer verse next to it.  The first verse was identical but the next one was new to me and Dean.  As I leaned forward a cold feeling of dread seeped into my bones.

Death and suffering follow Cain’s mark.

Till the Healer rules the bearer.

Blood rises from Hell’s gate.

Before Heaven’s light comes in sacrifice.

Till the Mother's consort is defeated.

My hands are shaking so much that I gripped them together on the table top to try to keep them still. “Damn, why all this riddle shit?” Dean growled.

“Since you are obviously the bearer, Dean, I guess that makes Rachel the Healer who will rule you.” Sam spoke quietly. I flinched at his words hearing the dislike he could prevent in his tone.

Dean glared at Sam, seeing the hurt he caused me. “Sam back the fuck off.” He snarled.

Feeling tired and overwhelmed I slumped back into the chair and said, “The is all so messed up! I am not some part of a prophecy written in the 7th century or whatever this insane hermit dreamed.  I just want to go home.”  Tears started rolling down my face.  Dean stood and pulled me into his arms cradling my face to his chest.  I clutched the back of his shirt holding on like he was the only stable thing in the chaos whirling around us. I heard Sam’s chair scrap as he stood up.  “I’m going to town and get us some dinner.” Leaving Dean and I alone in each other’s arms.

“Shh, darling. Everything will be okay.”  Dean said as he stroked my hair down my back.

I raised my tear-wet face to look into his eyes. Looking deeply, I got lost in his light green eyes scanning for the truth in his words.  Lowering his head, Dean’s lips met mine as I reached up at the same time.  Our mouths melted together in a deep kiss blocking out everything but the sensations building between us.  Without breaking the contact between our lips Dean gently walked me backward towards his room.  Reaching the door, he pressed me against it ravaging my lips and running his hands over my body.  Gasping for breath as he placed kisses and pressed his teeth into my neck, I whispered, “Shower.” Raising his head, Dean smiled down at me with his kissed red full mouth.  Taking a step back, Dean tilted his head to the next door and we moved together into the other room.  It was a like a 1950’s gym shower in a locker room, but I didn’t care.  All I wanted was to see Dean’s gorgeous naked body under the hot spray of the shower.

We undressed quickly, and Dean turned on the hot water full blast with only a quarter turn of the cold water knob. He pulled me under the spray for another deep drugging kiss.  Our hands roamed over each other sliding over our wet skin as we drank in our fill of each other’s lips.  Dean slid his hands around the back of my thighs lifting me while I wrapped my legs around his lean hips.  He pressed my back to the tile wall and entered me slightly before he stopped.  I whimpered and rocked my hips trying to force him deeper. “Open your eyes.  Look at me.” Dean’s husky command had me obeying.

After looking deep into my eyes, Dean plunged forward forcing a gasp from me. Thrusting his hips, he began pounding into my depths, and I could feel his fingers digging into my thighs intensely focusing my pleasure.  My arms wrapped around his neck as tightly as my legs clinging to him like a vine around a tree in the jungle. Our climax caught us both by surprise and right away the burning began in my chest.  The power flowed down my arms and entered Dean’s back causing him to plunge forward as he shot a hot stream into me.  Squeezing his body to me every way I could, I slowly drifted back down the sexual peak and let my legs slide down his muscular thighs to stand on the shower floor.  Our heaving breaths began to slow so that we eased our hold on each other.  Laying my forehead on Dean’s chest, I took deep cleansing breaths while the hot water beat against my back.

Dean placed his hand on my throat and gently lifted my face till he could look into my eyes. In a deep drawl. he said, “I can’t believe I haven’t asked before, but are you on the pill?”  It was like having a cold bucket of ice water dumped on me.

I stammered, “Uh, no, I didn’t need to be.”

“In that case, we can’t keep doing this without protection.”

I stared at him open-mouthed for a few seconds before the blush moved into my cheeks and I closed my eyes in shame. Reading me perfectly, Dean said, “Rachel, you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.  I should have made sure you were protected.”

My legs were so shaky that Dean had to hold me up. Bending down, he put his arm under my knees and swung me up into his arms.  Carrying me to a bench outside the shower area, Dean grabbed some towels and dried us both.  Wrapping a towel around my wet hair, Dean bent and picked me up again.  Cradling me in his arms, he carried me into his bedroom and set me down on the bed.  He pulled some cotton shorts and a t-shirt out of his dresser drawer and dressed me like I was a child.  He put on a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt himself.  Finding my brush Dean sat down behind me on the side of the bed and brushed my hair. Finally, neurons started firing in my shell-shocked brain.  I thought, oh my God, I could be pregnant by a guy I met less than a week ago.  I turned and took the brush from Dean’s hands and pulled my hair over my shoulder to continue brushing the long strands.  “Are you okay?” Dean asked gently since I had been silent for so long.

“Ye…yeah.” Was my shaking whispered response.

“Do you want to talk about this?”

“Not really. I just don’t think I can handle any more surprises right now, so unless it is necessary, can we just drop it?”

“Sure, darling.” Dean drawled. The use of his endearment had me smiling softly.

We heard Sam in the other room, so our conversation ended. Quirking an eyebrow at our wet hair when we walked into the kitchen, Sam said, “I hope you like Meat Lover’s pizza, Rachel.”

Sam put the pizza boxes and a six pack of beer on the table. After we ate and drank our fill, I was yawning behind my hand and my eyes kept drooping.  Sam tilted his head towards me alerting Dean how I was dropping off. “She’s going to fall out of her chair,” Sam told Dean.  Dean turned to look at my slumped shoulders and sleepy eyes.

“Time for bed, darling.” Dean said pulling me to my feet. “Night Sammy.”

Yawning widely, I said “Good night Sam. See you in the morning.”

Dean and I went to his room. Standing on either side of the bed, we undressed, climbed between the sheets, and immediately reached out to each other to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms.


	7. Men of Letter's Bunker

I woke up alone in Dean’s bed to low angry male voices coming down the hallway. I rubbed my eyes and sat up stretching my arms over my head. I swung my legs over the side and stood up. I grabbed my brush off of the dresser and pulled my long hair into a ponytail. I quickly dressed and opened the door looking down the hallway where the low voices were coming from Sam’s room.

“Dean, you aren’t acting like yourself! This woman has done something to you! She’s got some kind of hold on you! What do you really know about her?” Sam was almost yelling.

“I’m not stupid, Sam! I know what I’m doing.” Dean growled back.

“Really, because you just told me you can’t be away from her for very long without feeling sick. And you are acting like a teenager with a crush. This isn’t like you! You have to get away from her.”

“I can’t, Sammy.” Dean said in a low miserable tone.

“What?! That’s it! There is something very wrong here, Dean. You only met her a week ago! Don’t you see she has fucked with your head?” Sam yelled.

“The only thing Rachel has done to me is to give me some relief from the damn Mark!” Dean retorted.

“Do you hear yourself? The power it would take to affect the Mark in any way is dangerous! For all, we know Crowley sent her.” Sam yelled desperately.

“Rachel is not a demon. Give me some credit, Sam! She passed all the tests.”

“Then she’s something else we haven’t seen before. Before something happens to you, we need answers. Rachel can stay in the basement dungeon room while we find out where the hell she came from!” Sam suggested.

When I heard a body getting thrown against a wall, I rushed down the hallway to Sam’s door. Dean had his forearm across Sam’s throat pinning him savagely against the wall snarling in his face, “You are not putting her in that damn hole to interrogate her!” His other hand grasped a wad of Sam’s shirt.

“Dean, stop, please!” I cried from the doorway. When he heard my voice, Dean’s grip on Sam loosened slightly and they both turned their heads to stare at me. “Please stop fighting,” I begged. Dean took a step back releasing Sam. I looked from Dean’s  dark angry face to Sam’s surprised one. “I don’t know what is happening between me and Dean. I don’t know what this so called power I have is coming from or how I got it. A week ago I had a life and friends. I didn’t know monsters existed until Dean told me about them. I’m not a demon.” I calmly talked as I looked directly at Sam. “I’m a country girl from a small town in west Texas. I have a master’s degree in English and History from Texas A & M and a great job prospect in Seattle. I know you are trying to protect your brother, and I promise you that I would protect Dean with my life.” I didn’t even know the next words were true till I said them out loud. “I would die before I let something happen to him.” Dean was watching me with an intensity I could almost feel like a physical touch.

I stood in the doorway letting my words fade away. After a tense few minutes, Sam took a deep breath and said, “Rachel, I’m sorry if I said anything that hurt you. You obviously believe what you’re saying” which earned him another glare from Dean “But we have been screwed over by people we trusted before, so until we find some answers, at least we can be that honest with each other.”

“Fine, I won’t lie to you or Dean.” Turning to face Dean, I sternly said, “Damnit, you better not hide anything from me either, Dean!"

Holding his hands out in apology, Dean smoothly said, “Rachel, I didn’t tell you about how being separated from you affected me because you had enough shit on your plate and you didn’t need to be worrying about me too.”

“Well, now I know. But you hide something that important from me again, and I’ll knock you on your ass!” I growled.

Dean shuffled his feet and looked everywhere to keep from meeting my angry brown eyes. When Sam noticed Dean’s sheepish expression he looked surprised and then burst out laughing so Dean playfully pushed him into the wall. “Bitch!” and Sam retorted, “Jerk!” I rolled my eyes at the immature antics of these two grown men but I guessed brothers never completely grow up. “If the boy drama is over, I’m starving and need coffee,” I said over my shoulder as I headed to the kitchen.

“Hey, that’s my line!” Dean hollered back. The three of us went into the kitchen together. Sam started making coffee while Dean and I made breakfast. Dean still couldn’t stop from touching me every few moments with a kiss or just sliding his fingertips across the back of my hand. I shyly smiled at him and enjoyed doing this normal domestic task with him releasing some of the previous tension between us. I saw Sam watching us as we brought three full plates to the table. He was smiling at his older brother. When Dean saw Sam’s look, he said, “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just I’ve never seen you happy like this.” Sam looked at me. "A big stupid lovesick puppy." He teased Dean.

“You two are incorrigible.” I laughed.

“Wow, she’s got looks and a vocabulary.” Sam teased.

“Yeah, and wait, the best part is she cooks, shoots, hikes, and almost put me on my ass bare handed.” Dean joked. Just like that I became a member of the Winchester family.

After breakfast, Sam and Dean went to the library to look for more answers, and I took care of washing the few articles of clothing I had from my bag. I joined the brothers about an hour later after putting away my clean clothes in Dean’s dresser. “Find anything?” I asked as I strolled into the library.

Sam spoke first, “Yeah, the hermit monk who wrote the prophecies about the Healer name Irasamus. He is believed to have predicted the discovery of America by Columbus, the assassination of JFK, the 100-years war, Henry VIII, and a shitload of other historical events. The Catholic Church condemned his writings as heretical in the 1400’s. According to the Men of Letters files, Irasamus was referred to as a seer.”

Dean pulled out a chair at the table for me and said, “You better sit down for the rest.” I didn’t like the sound of that so I sat down next to Dean and braced myself. I shifted to face him as he continued watching my reaction closely. “The Men of Letters who wrote the file on Irasamus was your friend's father, Bruce Patrick Montgomery.” As Dean slid the file folder in front of me he pointed to the page, “Look at the last entry.”

I looked down at the file and saw the last notations was the date and city where I was born. My jaw dropped and I started at the last hand-written entry: “The Healer will come.” Even Sam was looking at me with sympathy when all the blood drained from my face. I started hyperventilating. Dean jumped up and squatted down next to my chair. “Slow and easy, darling. Come on; just breathe in and out. Take it easy, baby.” Dean held my hand and put the other against my white cold cheek. “You’re ok.”

After several minutes, I managed to inhale a long shaky breath. “Here.” Sam handed a bottle of water to Dean who tried to hand it to me but my hands were shaking too much for me to bring the bottle to my mouth. Dean held the bottle to my lips and said, “Take a sip.” He tipped it up till I sputtered and turned my head away.

“I’m okay.” I whispered faintly. “Has my whole life been written for me? What about free will? Do I have any control over my destiny?”

“We don’t know. There’s still a lot of questions, but we’re going to figure this out.” Sam spoke and I was more comforted by his use of the pronoun we than Dean’s touch at that moment.

I tried to smile up at Sam and Dean gave a sigh of relief. “What’s out next step?” I asked quietly.

“We research everything about the Healer, the Mark, and a mother's consort.” Dean said.

“But what about my life out there?” I gestured toward the staircase to the exterior door. “I have friends and family who think I died in a plane crash.”

“Until we know what we are dealing with, you need to be kept safe. There’s no safer place than right here and if people think you're dead, then nobody will be looking for you.” Sam said.

Dean latched onto the idea of my staying in the bunker a little too quickly when he piped up and said, “Yes, you will stay here while Sammy and I get some answers.”

“There you go again, taking charge.” I softly said looking at Dean and gave him a stunning smile which he returned with a teasing wink.

Sam cleared his throat interrupting the moment, “Now that is settled, can we get back to the research?” Sam walked back around the table and opened up his laptop. Dean sat back into his chair and picked up another file folder. I pulled the book with the longer verse towards me and started reading. We spent several more hours chasing ancient prophecies and references to the Healer. We had dinner and went to sleep after midnight.

Over the next 3 weeks, I lived in the bunker with Sam and Dean while they hunted clues all over the country. They chased every rumor about the Mark or Healer from Oregon or Florida. They never were gone for more than a few days because Dean really did get sick being separated from me since I stayed hidden in the bunker. I read every volume in the library that mentioned the Mark of Cain or the Healer. When they were home in the bunker in the evenings, we watched Netflix, ate huge bowls of popcorn, and drank beer. I shopped online with Dean’s credit card and got a full wardrobe of clothes delivered to the post office in Lebanon. I relaxed my guard and started to think of the bunker as home. Instead of board games like normal people, the three of us had a shooting competition in the bunker’s gun range which I won easily hitting 100% of the paper targets.

Every night Dean and I slept in his bed in each other’s arms. We had sex almost every night and a couple of times during the day. Every time as he promised, he wore a condom but the electric current of power still flowed from my hands into him. The Mark on his arm had faded and looked like ordinary pale scar tissue instead of the raised red mark I saw before. Dean also started doing little romantic things like leaving a red carnation on my pillow after I casually mentioned they were my favorite flower. We watched “Casablanca” on his laptop with me curled in his arms propped on the bed against the headboard. He brought back a second-hand six string guitar from somewhere, and we sat in the library while I sang songs occasionally Sam joining in harmony. Sam couldn’t have been happier for us. He started calling me his little sister and having a grand time teasing his older brother with jokes of sappy love-sick puppies. Sam and I discovered a shared love of archery, and we spent hours in the range shooting arrows into stuffed human shaped dummies with re-curve bows. I was happier than I ever had been in my life until Crowley showed up.


	8. Crowley Makes Appearance

Sam and Dean were making a supply run in town, so I decided to take a walk outside for some fresh air and sunlight. Hiking up the hill next to the old factory, I found an open meadow dotted with wildflowers and spread out an old quilt. Putting a 9mm pistol within reach, I laid down and let the sunlight soak into my skin making me drowsy. I closed my eyes enjoying the sound of nature as it relaxed me.

“Well, well what do we have here?” the voice was pure evil with a slight Scottish accent. “Dean Winchester's little girlfriend, all alone. Where is little Squirrel and Moose?”

I didn’t say anything, I just opened my eyes and studied the man standing a few feet away. He looked to be in his fifties with a neatly trimmed gray-streaked beard and large round dark eyes. His suit was obviously custom made and very expensive. The silk tie he was wearing matched the handkerchief square in his breast pocket. I sat up and began to slowly slide my hand towards the gun laying on the quilt.

“You know that won’t do you any good, sweetheart.” Crowley said with a smirk.

“A girl has to try.” I said hiding the fear that was pooling in my gut, but I stopped reaching for the gun.

He smiled like watching his favorite pet playing with a toy, “Crowley, King of Hell.” He said by way of introduction.

“Should I be impressed?” I bluffed proud of myself for not letting my voice crack.

“My demons told me that Dean had hooked up with a special lady, but they didn’t tell me how truly unique you are.”

“Well you can’t believe rumors.” I said nonchalantly.

 Crowley bluntly asked me, “Is it true that the Mark of Cain is fading from Dean’s arm?”

“Why would you care?” I raised an eyebrow as I asked.

“Well, Sweetheart. Since you asked, how about we play a little game; quid pro quo? I answer one question and then you. A little tit for tat.” He leered at me enjoying playing with me.

Playing a game with the King of Hell was the last thing I wanted to do but I knew I had to stall for time till Sam and Dean returned. I nodded my agreement and answered, “Yes, the Mark is fading on Dean’s arm. My turn, why do you care?”

“Because I’m the one who made possible the circumstances to give Dean the Mark of Cain in the first place. Do you know how the Mark could be losing its hold on Dean?”

“No.” Since that was true and he didn’t ask for more details, I didn’t share my part in all this. “What do you know about the prophecies of Irasamus?”

“Hermit monk, many compared him to Nostradamus and he had some visions involving the Mark. How did you meet up with Sam and Dean Winchester?”

“Dean and I were on the same flight out of Austin. A plane crashed; we survived.” I was carefully keeping my answers short and straight to the point. “How did you find me here?”

“I have demons all over this area keeping an eye on the Winchesters. When packages arrived at the post office with a woman’s clothes, my spies alerted me. By the way, love the red silk nightgown you ordered.” Crowley’s leer made my skin crawl and his next question made my blood freeze. “Does Dean know you are carrying his child?”

The genuine look of utter surprise on my face had Crowley laughing, “Oh Sweetheart, you didn’t know!” The look of fake sympathy on Crowley’s face was terrifying because I knew instantly he would use this information to hurt Dean. Before Crowley could say anything else, I heard Dean shouting up the hill, “Rachel! Rachel!”

Crowley looked down at me with a wicked grin, “Rachel, is it?”

 My heart twists at the rising panic I can hear in Dean’s shout, “Rachel! Where the hell are you?”

Crowley and I both looked toward the tree line as Dean came crashing through the underbrush and spotted me. Grinning smugly, Crowley greeted Dean, “Hello squirrel. Love your girlfriend.” Dean quickly stalked across the meadow and stepped in front of me facing the King of Hell. Sam came out of the trees right behind Dean carrying a wicked looking knife.

“What the hell do you want Crowley?” Dean snarled.

Pouting, Crowley looked between Sam and Dean, “What no hugs and kisses for your old buddy?”

Rolling his eyes in disgust, Sam growled, “Answer the question and then get the hell out of here, Crowley!”

Dropping the teasing tone, Crowley said, “Fine, Moose. Just checking in on my two favorite hunters. By the way congratulations Dean, what do you want, a boy or a girl?” Before the question was finished, Crowley snapped his fingers and vanished.

Dean spun around and snatched me up off the quilt. Holding my upper arms in a grip that stung, he yelled in my face, “What the hell were you thinking leaving the bunker?” Sam walked around the meadow keeping watch while Dean chewed me out. I was hoping that he had been so preoccupied with worry that he had not heard Crowley’s last question.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted some fresh air and to see the sun.” I tried to keep my voice calm and soothing. “I’ve been cooped up underground for three weeks. I needed to be outside a little, Dean. I didn’t know Crowley would show up.” When I mentioned Crowley, Dean’s hands tightened making me whimper in pain. He dropped his hands when he realized he had hurt me.

“Come on!” Dean grabbed my wrist and started dragging me back to the bunker. “My gun!” I protested not wanting to leave it behind.

Dean didn’t break his long stride to yell over his shoulder, “Sam, grab Rachel’s shit.” I could tell his was furious with me. He was walking so fast I was half jogging to keep up with him. He didn’t stop till we were in the bunker library. When Dean let go of my wrist, I stopped, tried to catch my breath, and leaned against the table. He just stared at me for several minutes. I heard the bunker door open and close as Sam started down the stairs. “Sam, keep an eye on her. I need to take care of something.” Dean’s cold voice sent a chill through me as he spun on his heel and headed towards the bunker’s gym.

Stricken, I turned towards Sam and looked up at him. Tears began streaming down my cheeks. Sam placed the quilt and gun on the table and wrapped me into a comforting hug. Sam gently held me while I cried and came down from the adrenaline rush caused by Crowley. Sam and I heard a litany of curse words and blows landing as Dean worked out his own adrenaline on the punching bag in the gym. Sam quietly spoke when I stopped shaking, “Was Crowley right, are you pregnant?” At his question, I started crying harder. When I began hiccuping from my crying jag, Sam pulled a bandana from his back pocket and gently wiped my face. “Am I going to be an uncle?” He looked so sweet and hopeful that I answered honestly.

“I’m not sure, but I think so.” Sam gave me a squeeze before letting me go and smiling down said, “You need to tell Dean.”

“Tell me what?” Dean walked into the library sweating and his knuckles were split and bloody.

“Nice bro. Feel better now?” Sam stated when he saw the blood on the back of Dean’s hands.

“As a matter of fact, yes I do since I couldn’t beat the crap out of Crowley. Now, is there something you need to tell me, Rachel?” Dean voice was rough and strained like he was holding on tight to keep from yelling.

“I’m not sure what you are talking about.” I said honestly since I wasn’t sure he heard Crowley’s question.

Dean said flatly, “How about that it’s a little too late for the condoms?”

I couldn’t read his emotional state so I carefully walked over to stand directly in front of him. Placing my hand lightly on his chest, I confessed in a husky voice, “Dean, I think I’m pregnant.”

He didn’t say a word for several minutes which I hoped meant he was just taking his time to accept the truth. Slowly I saw his eyes change to a deeper green and I braced myself for whatever his reaction would be. Slowly he raised his hands to cup my face and a dazzling smile formed on his beautiful lips. That proof of his acceptance started my blubbering crying all over again. Dean wrapped his arms around my waist while I curled mine around his neck. We held each other tightly for a long time. When I noticed that I had soaked the front of his shirt with my tears, I pulled back so I could look at him. He eyes were shining with the emotions unspoken between us.

“I won’t lie to you. This scares the hell out of me, Rachel. My life isn’t exactly stable and it will be damn hard to raise a kid.” When he saw my face fall he quickly continued, “No wait. Let me finish. Rachel, I want this baby. I want you. I also know if Crowley knows you are pregnant then you and our child are in danger. There are things out there that would do horrible things to you and the baby to get back at me.” He was so serious and the look of worry on his face broke my heart. “We’ll have to be so careful, but I won’t stop living our lives out of fear.”

“God, I love you, Dean Winchester.” I melted into his embrace and felt more than heard him chuckle.

“Finally, I thought you’d never say it” he whispered into my ear. Letting go of me he looked around to discover that Sam had left the room giving us privacy. He yelled towards the back of the bunker, “Sammy!” I didn’t know why he wanted Sam back so I waited to see what he’d do. Sam came hurrying into the room looking all around for more trouble. Dean walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured two generous glasses of what I knew was the best bourbon in the bunker. Bringing them over to where Sam and I were standing, Dean handed one glass to Sam and held the other up in a toast. “To my son or daughter.” And clinked his glass against the one in Sam’s hand before downing the entire contents in one swallow. Sam looked down at me and shrugged his shoulders before downing the contents of his own.

“Where’s mine?” I frowned.

“Sorry darling. Bad for the baby.” was Dean’s smart ass response. Sam burst out laughing when I turned to face Dean with a very pissed off look. I pulled my right fist back and punched Dean in the stomach as hard as I could for being a male chauvinist jerk. As I stormed out of the room, Dean looked at Sam in complete confusion rubbing his abdomen and complained, “What the hell was that for?”

Laughing Sam snorted, “Hormones!” which made Dean groan loudly before he ran after me.

Catching up with me in the kitchen, Dean sat down at the table and watched me put away the groceries they had left in bags on the counter. My head was spinning with too many things so I decided that doing something ordinary like making lunch would calm me down. Pulling ingredients out to make grilled cheese, spinach, and ham sandwiches, I fired up the stove. Sam had told me once that grilled cheese with ham and spinach was his favorite. “It is necessary now, Rachel, so we need to talk about what we are going to do,” Dean said quietly.

“I know, but please just give me a little while to process everything, ok?” I replied.

Sam entered the room and sat down across from Dean. “What are we going to do about Crowley sniffing around?” he asked.

“Food first then we’ll talk.” Dean said. I finished up frying the sandwiches, using an entire loaf of bread and brought them to the table on a large platter. Sam gave me a huge smile when he saw the green leaves sticking out of the crusts. The platter was quickly emptied with such enthusiasm and appreciation that I giggled at the boys’ appetites and groans of pleasure at home cooked meals.  I felt the tension relax a little from my shoulders while we ate.

After cleaning up, we went into the library with cups of coffee. “Main thing is that Rachel is going to have to stay in the bunker from now on.” I spun around and opened my mouth to protest, but Dean continued. “The bunker is warded against demons and other monsters. They can’t get to you in here. I think we need to call Cas too. He can make sure there are no angelic issues with the baby either.” Since Dean had told me about Castiel, I was looking forward to finally meeting the angel that had saved Dean’s life several times.

“Dean you can’t just lock me up in here for the next 8 months.” I calmly stated as Sam nodded his agreement.

“Why not? There’s everything you need right here.” He said it so earnestly that Sam snorted at Dean’s naiveté.

“I still need answers about the prophecy. We don’t know how the rest of Irasamus’ poem is going to happen especially with all that stuff about blood, Hell’s gate, the savior, and all. Besides that, what about a doctor, prenatal vitamins, ultrasounds?” I said.

“I have something better than an ultrasound. Castiel, oh angelic bestie. Come on, Cas I need you right now.” Dean called out. In a flutter of the wind, a tall man with dark short hair, blue eyes, and a brown trench coat appeared in the entry way.

In a very deep stern voice, Castiel said as a greeting, “Dean, Sam.”

“Cas, thanks for coming.” Dean stood up and walked over to him. “Cas, this is Rachel Remington,” Dean said as he gestured toward where I was leaning against the table.

Castiel turned and looked at me so intently I thought I might have grown two heads. It was unnerving because he seemed to be looking into my soul. As his penetrating gaze travel over my face down to my feet and back up, his eyes suddenly grew wide and he said, “She’s not fully human.” This caused me to suddenly stand straight up with a rigid spine and chin up. Fear seeped into me. Sam and Dean turned to look at me curiously.

“Wh…What?” I squeaked.

 Cas walked over to stand in front of me and placed his hand on my forehead. “You have God's grace more than any other human I know.”

“But I thought only angels were given grace.” Sam said.

“There’s been a few beings in all the centuries since creation that God bestowed grace to give them special abilities.” Castiel explained.

“Abilities like what?” I asked.

“Speaking in tongues, the gift of prophecy and healing is just a few.” Castiel’s words were like a healing balm on my wounded soul. It felt so good to know that my gift was from God and not something evil. I smiled up at Castiel with relief, and as I turned to look at Dean and Sam I saw they were smiling also.

“Thanks, Cas. We owe you big time. Just one more thing, I need you to answer for us.” Dean asked. “Is Rachel pregnant?” At Dean’s words, Castiel’s face showed his surprise before he quickly recovered to his bland expression. Placing his hands on my lower abdomen, he looked up at Dean and nodded. “Is the baby ok?” A hint of worry had crept into his voice.

“Yes, Dean. Everything is normal.” Castiel’s quiet words were a relief to us.

Dean pulled me into his arms and held onto me for a long moment before releasing me. Sam hugged me too. I looked up to Castiel for respectful approval before I hugged an angel and with his slight nod, I put my arms around him. He awkwardly hugged me back and quickly let go.

Dean slapped Castiel on the back, and I collapsed into a library chair with relief.

Dean began to tell Cas more about why he called him. “Crowley, was here. He was messing around with Rachel and knows she is carrying my child. I need to you find out if any angels hear about what he’s planning. I don’t trust that bastard.” 

“Of course, Dean.” I wasn’t going to get used to Castiel bland look with so little emotion on his face. I spent my life reading other people for danger and the level of threat they posed. Now, I had met an angel that I couldn’t read, and it was a little unnerving.

“Cas, just keep your ears open to anything about Rachel.” Dean asked. Without a word or a sound, Castiel disappeared. “Dammit Cas, you know I hate it when you do that!” Dean yelled into the air above our heads.

Sam stood up and said, “I’m going to give you two a chance to talk. Rachel, I’m going back into town beside prenatal vitamins is there anything else I should get?” Sam’s gesture was so sweet that I decided we all needed a treat, “Blue Belle ice cream, pistachio almond!” He and I shared a big smile and I winked at him. He was laughing as he headed for the bunker garage. I turned back to Dean and sat down at the map top table in the control room entry way.

Taking the chair across from me, Dean ran his bloodied hands through his hair making the ends stand up in spikes. Before he could say anything, I jumped up “Hang on a sec.” I went into the shower room and got witch hazel and cotton balls from the medicine cupboard. Returning to the control room, I sat next to Dean and took one of his hands. Wetting one of the cotton balls, I dabbed Dean’s split knuckles. He hissed at the sting. “Can’t we just go in the bedroom and you can work your healing power? Dean said suggestively.

“No, you jerk! You get plain old ordinary human healing after threatening to lock me in this bunker for eight months!” I retorted.

“Rachel, I have to keep you safe and now I have another life depending on me.”

I changed to Dean’s other hand with the antiseptic when I said, “I understand you feel responsible for us, but if we’re not equal partners in this, it won’t work. You don’t have to carry all the burden for my safety. I have been trained for over 20 years to take care of myself, and I won’t be left behind like some weak link.”

“But you’re pregnant!” Dean said like that solved everything.

“Yes, but I’m not weak or incapable. Dean, you have to trust my abilities too. I would give my life to protect you, Sam, and our child.” I calmly said.

“That’s just it! I can’t lose you. Don’t you understand if something happened to you that I could prevent, it will kill me!” Dean said earnestly.

“You said to me that we wouldn’t stop living our lives out of fear. We are stronger as a family, which means we depend on each other to do their part.” I set aside the medical supplies after that statement.

Dean looked into my eyes and held both my hands in his. After looking hard for answers in them, he took a deep breath and said, “If we’re going to be a real family, I think I should meet yours.” His words surprised me but I realized this was his way of accepting my point of view.

“The only family of mine that you should meet is my brother, Kyle.”

“Alright. You, Sam, and I will go meet your brother. Where do we need to go?”

I beamed at him when I said, “West Texas. A little town called Cheyenne halfway between Abilene and Fort Worth.”

Sam returned right after I said that and dropped a white paper pharmacy bag in front of me. “The ice cream is in the freezer.”

Dean looked up at Sam and asked, “You up for a little road trip in the morning?”

“Sure, where are we going?”

Dean gestured to me to fill Sam in our destination and why we were going there. “Dean, you know that her big brother is probably going to kick your ass for knocking up his little sister.” Sam teased.

I immediately burst out, “Oh my God, Dean, he’s right. Kyle is kind of a redneck cowboy and very protective of me. You can’t get into a fight with him! Promise me!”

Dean snorted, “Bring him on!”

“I mean it, Dean. Don’t you dare hurt Kyle!” I used my sternest tone. “Sam, please, you have to keep them from killing each other,” I begged. Sam could see I was getting upset so he promised to help me when they met Kyle.

Dean spoke to me as soothingly as he could with that snake charmer deep voice of his, “Rachel, I won’t promise Kyle and I won’t go a few rounds because he might need to pound on me and I probably deserve it. If I were in his boots, I’d need to take the son of a bitch that got my little sister pregnant for a few licks behind the woodshed too.” I snorted with disgust at that male logic and knew there was no arguing with it.

“Fine!” I huffed and stormed out to the kitchen to make chicken cordon bleu for supper. I heard Sam ask, “Does Rachel always cook when she’s mad?”

“Yeah, why do you think I keep pissing her off?” Dean replied as he patted his flat abs.

After dinner we packed out bags to be on the road for a few days, cleaned all our guns, and sharpened the rune covered knives. None of us mentioned it out loud what we were all thinking. Our weapons needed to be ready because the minute we stepped out of the bunker, we would all be in danger. That night when Dean and I made love it was gentle and so poignant I cried from the sheer beauty of being intimate with him. My healing power took care of his split knuckles and the Mark no longer had any difference in texture than the surrounding skin when I touched it. I feel asleep lying in the spoon position with Dean’s hand spread on my stomach like he was protecting the tiny life deep inside me.


	9. The Rocking R

The next morning Sam and Dean loaded all of the weapons in the lower hidden compartment in the Impala's trunk. Our bags sat on top of the false bottom. A case of beer and a cooler filled with ice completed the trunk contents. I climbed in the back seat with a pillow and a blanket which earned me a cocked eyebrow from Dean. I knew car rides made me sleepy so I claimed the large back bench seat as all mine. Sam and Dean climbed into the front and closed the creaky doors at the same time. Dean turned the key and the Impala purred like a jungle cat. We left the bunker and headed south towards Texas.

Someone was calling my name and nudging my leg to wake up which I responded to like a grumpy cat. “Come on Rachel wake up.” Sam was reaching over into the back seat bumping my leg and calling to me to wake up. My sleepy brain recognized Dean’s deep voice when he said. “We’re getting close. Where does Kyle live?”

Yawning I said, “Take Highway 36 south out of town. About 7 miles on the right you’ll see a ranch gate with a rocking “R” on it. That’s Kyle’s ranch.” It was early evening and I recognized several familiar landmarks like the Dairy Queen where I got my first job in high school. I pointed out the courthouse square where historical markers stood around an oak tree at least 100 years old. “That was the hanging tree and there’s still iron shackles cemented in the ground below it.” I told the guys. “Nice, frontier justice.” Sam said appreciating the historical tree. We headed south out of town passing dairy farms, pecan orchards, and peanut fields. “I grew up here.” I told Sam and Dean started to look around the area with more interest after I spoke.

We pulled onto a black top asphalt driveway after going through the Rocking R gate. “This wasn’t paved the last time I was here.” I was proud that Kyle’s ranch was making enough money to do improvements like a paved driveway. After topping a small hill which hid the main ranch complex from the highway, I was able to see that Kyle had added several structures and renovated the older ones since I was here 8 years ago. When Kyle and I wanted to get together it was usually at one of Bruce’s training camps, so it had been a long time since I visited Cheyenne.

Dean drove down the hill and pulled in front of the main house. It was a white clapboard two story ranch style with forest green shutters and a wraparound elevated porch. I was so excited to see my brother that I jumped out of the back seat as soon as the Impala stopped. Dean shut off the engine as I took the porch steps two at a time to reach the 7 foot tall dark green door that matched the shutters. I knocked hard as I heard Sam and Dean getting out of the car. I heard booted footsteps inside the house before the door opened to reveal Kyle filling the doorway. His dark brown hair was hidden beneath a light straw Stetson. His massive chest was covered in a plaid western shirt with pearl snaps. Faded Wranglers and brown Ariat boots completed his good ole boy Texas look. Kyle was 6’5” and having been a U S Marine was built like a semi truck.

Kyle’s mouth fell open and he breathed, “Rachel? Rachel, is it really you?” With a Whoop! Kyle grabbed me in a bear hug and swung me around like a ragdoll on the porch. Laughing, I clung to his neck when my feet left the ground. After about five turns, I squirmed and laughed, “Put me down you big ox!” He lowered me to my feet again which had been over a foot off the porch. Kyle was completely focused on me so he had not seen Sam and Dean.

“Where the hell have you been? We had a funeral Mass for you, dammit! How could you let me go through that?” He was beginning to yell at me so I tried to quickly calm him down.

“Just wait. I’ll explain everything, I promise, but right now I want you to meet someone.” I turned and waved Sam and Dean to come up on the porch. “Sam Winchester I’d like you to meet my brother, Kyle Remington.” They shook hands in that hard masculine grip sizing up the other male. “Kyle, this is Dean Winchester.” Kyle must have noticed the softening of my voice when I said Dean’s name because he looked down        at me suddenly before taking Dean’s offered hand. It struck me a little funny because for all Dean’s height and muscular frame, he looked a lot smaller standing between Kyle and Sam. I noticed Kyle flexed hard on Dean’s hand and an unspoken threat passed between the two of them. Intervening quickly, I placed my hands on both of their forearms and said, “Ok if you two macho assholes are through pissing and marking your territory, I’d like something to drink.” Sam snickered and followed me inside the ranch house leaving Kyle and Dean to follow.

The house was nice and cool with all of the windows designed to take advantage of the cross breeze. I headed straight for the study on the left and pulled three beers out of Kyle’s micro fridge below the bar and liquor cabinet. Handing one to each of the men as they walked into the room which suddenly seemed so small with these large males taking up space. I took a glass with ice and poured a can of Sprite into it. Kyle raised an eyebrow at my not getting a beer for myself.

Sam and Dean were both curious to see the house I grew up in, so they looked around bit. There were western prints by Frederic Remington in rustic wood frames, samples of barbed wire displayed, and a cabinet filled silver and gold rodeo belt buckles. I knew a few in the cabinet were mine from barrel racing, but most were Kyle’s from bronco riding and cutting horse competitions. A framed Texas A&M University diploma with Kyle’s name and major listed as Ranch Management was hanging above the bar. “Make yourself comfortable, boys.” Kyle invited indicating the sofa and two large leather wing chairs. I sat down on the far end of the sofa, and Dean immediately moved towards me, but Kyle stepped in front of him and cut him off. Dean glared at the obvious ploy and I could see his jaw flexing in his cheek. Sam took one of the leather chairs leaving the other empty for Dean.

Warily watching the two men, I started telling Kyle everything. Even though I was very careful with details, several times Kyle looked at Dean like he wanted to kill him. When I tried to explain about hunters, monsters, Men of Letters, and the prophecy being real, Kyle stopped me. “Fucking, Bruce! He told me all about this shit years ago when he trained me to be a hunter.” Kyle spit out.

“You knew about this shit and never told me! What the hell, Kyle?” I demanded.

“Bruce and I decided that if you didn’t have to know about this life then you could live a normal ordinary safe one.” Kyle explained rationally. Unfortunately I was beyond being rational and yelled, “My whole fucking life has been a lie perpetrated by the men I was closest to! You had no right!”

Kyle put his hands up in surrender because he knew I had a right to be angry. “Rachel, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t want you to be a part of the life of a hunter.”

I was so angry that I yelled, “Well you failed because now I’m pregnant by a hunter!”

Immediately the room went deadly silent as my voice echoed through the house. I gasped and my hands flew to my mouth because that was not the way I wanted to break the news to Kyle. Into the silence low and deadly serious Kyle stood up slowly and said, “Dean, I would like to have a word with you in the barn.” Dean stood up ready for everything Kyle was about to serve up because he looked just at furious at Kyle for not telling me the truth when he was in fact a hunter too and knew the dangers in the world.

Before I could stop the two men I loved most in the world from trying to kill each other, Sam took hold of my arm and said quietly “Let them go, Rachel. They need to do this.” I looked up at Sam with horror and despair as Dean and Kyle walked out the back door and into the barn. Since the barn’s door was about 50 yards from the back of the house, they were out of view within seconds.

“They are going to kill each other, Sam!” I pitifully said.

“No they won’t because they both know that it would hurt you. They both love you too much to cause you any pain.” Sam’s soothing words and gentle hug helped me calm down. Muted shouting began to come from the barn interior. Every time I heard a crash or breaking wood, I winced. Most of the shouting wasn’t decipherable, but an occasional “You Son of a bitch!” or “Bastard!” could be heard clearly. “Does Kyle, keep bourbon in the liquor cabinet?” Sam asked.

I nodded absently. Sam got up and found the bourdon in a cut crystal decanter.

He poured two glasses of doubles and left them sitting on the bar waiting. It was almost an hour later when the sounds of fighting died down in the barn. I made Sam go check to see if they were seriously injured so he grabbed the two glasses of bourbon and headed to the barn door. After he went inside, I climbed the stairs to the second floor.

My old room was clean and exactly the same as I remembered the last time I visited. A red and white flying geese patterned quilt was laying on top of a rustic wooden bed frame. The gingham red checked curtains were swaying slightly in the breeze. Matching desk, nightstand, and dresser painted white were all there. The tiny bathroom was spotless with red and white guest towels and white porcelain tile. After I used the toilet and washed my hands, I splashed water on my face. Since I did not hear the men return to the house, I stood looking out the window seeing all the improvements Kyle had made in the pastures green grasses, stock tanks for water, and new fencing. I thought over Kyle’s revelation of being a hunter and the implications that had on my memories and  my current life.

One of the stairs creaked loudly as someone walked up to stand in the bedroom doorway. Not turning around or caring who it was, I said dejectedly, “I don’t want to talk to any of you right now so please leave me alone.” It was Dean who softly said, “Rachel…” Angrily I cut him off, “No! Don’t speak to me right now!” After waiting a minute, Dean left and went back downstairs.

I felt like I was trapped and being smothered inside the house, so I spun around and quickly walked downstairs. Passing the study, I said “I’m going for a ride. Be back by sundown.” I didn’t even look into the room because I knew I would be furious to see any wounds from the fight in the barn. Sam started walking toward me and said, “I’ll go with you.”

“NO!” I said harshly. Calming my voice I said, “Take care of these two jerks. I need time to think.” I walked out of the house and into the barn.

It looked like a tornado had gone through it from one end to the other. Busted bails of hay were scattered all over the barn floor. Several empty stalls had broken boards in their walls and one looked like a body went through the stall door. I kicked a broken bucket out of my way and noticed some blood spatters on the floor. I was getting more angry at my hard headed brother and my arrogant lover.

I headed into the tack room and grabbed a saddle, bridle, and pad. Walking to the last stall, I saw an Appaloosa quarter horse. Since Kyle bred and raised champion cutting horses, I knew every horse in the barn was top quality. Opening the stall door and cross tying the gelding, I quickly saddled up and slipped the bit into the gelding’s mouth.

Leading him out of the barn, I saw Sam, Dean, and Kyle sitting on the back porch rocking chairs and drinking glasses of amber liquid. I jumped into the saddle, found the stirrups, and kicked the gelding into a dead run out of the yard. Instead of stopping to open the pasture gate, I simply nudged the gelding to jump over it and galloped out into the pasture.

Being on a horse again was fantastic. I found the gelding’s stride and settled into a gallop that was as smooth as flying. It was incredible and made me wonder why I hadn’t rode more often. As the ground sped by I felt the tension and anger leaving in the exhilaration of being horseback and feeling the power of the horse beneath me. Coming to a small gully creek bed, I slowed the gelding to scramble down and then up the other side. As the horse topped the rise, he spooked from something on the ground. Rearing up, I was thrown off as he bunked sideways. I hit my head on the rocky ground. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was the gelding galloping back towards the direction of the ranch.


	10. Family always has your back

“Rachel, come on darling. Come back to us.” My ears were ringing so I didn’t recognize the voice calling to me. “That’s it. Come on and open those beautiful eyes.” That deep rough voice could only belong to one person, Dean. Blinking from the flashlight shining in my face, I realized I was lying on the rocky ground with Sam, Dean, and Kyle kneeling beside my prone body, and it was nighttime. I struggled to sit up feeling dizzy and nauseous. Dean slid his arm around my shoulders for support.

Sam flashed the light into one eye than the other, “Both pupils dilated so I don’t think she has  a concussion.”

Kyle ran his hands down my legs like the marine medic he had been, “No broken bones either.”

After the dizziness passed, I finally was able to focus on the three men intently staring down at me. Dean’s lower lip was split in the middle and swollen. His right eye was swollen shut and turning purple. There was a large bruise on his lower jaw on the left side and a cut above his left eyebrow. Kyle had a huge knot on his forehead and his lips were red and double their normal size. He also had a black eye and a purple bruise on his jaw. Seeing the evidence of their fight, I got mad and a kick of adrenaline, and I tensed to stand up. “Easy, Rachel. Take it slow.” Kyle advised.

“I was bucked off a horse instead of being an ass and fighting someone I just met!” I glared first at Kyle and then Dean.

Sam snorted, “She’s ok if she’s already chewing you two out.” He slapped Dean on the back who groaned from what could only be a bruise on his back.

With Dean and Kyle lifting me up, I managed to stand a little shakily. Kyle’s truck was idling close by with the headlights turned toward us, and I slowly made my way to the cab supported by Dean’s arm around my waist. Sam, picked up something from the ground and put it in the pocket of his jacket. Dean lifted me into the front seat of Kyle’s super cab Ford 4x4 F 350. I scooted over to the middle of the front seat so Dean could climb into the passenger seat while Kyle climbed behind the steering wheel. Sam opened the back crew cab door and climbed into the rear seat. When Kyle turned the truck around and headed back towards the house, I asked, “How did you find me?”

Kyle answered first, “When the appaloosa came back to the barn with an empty saddle we knew you were in trouble.”

“Your brother is a hell of a tracker.” Dean said with a hint of admiration. “He tracked the horse right to you.”

“What happened, Rachel?” Sam’s voice came from the back seat. “Kyle told us you were an expert rider.”

“I was coming up an embankment out of the creek bed, and the gelding just spooked. Next thing I knew I was on the ground.” I said.

Kyle teased, “You’re out of practice Rachel if you can't stay on the back of a bucking horse. How long has it been since you’ve ridden?”

A little sadly, I answered, “It’s been a few years.”

We bumped over the last cattle guard and pulled up to the ranch house. All the lights inside were on so we got out of the truck in the comforting glow. We walked up the porch steps and went into the study. There was a fire burning in the fireplace giving the study a cheery atmosphere. I sat down on the couch with a groan from my sore and bruised body. This time Kyle didn’t stop Dean from taking the seat next to me and putting his arm behind me. Sam and Kyle sat in the matching dark brown leather wing chairs. In the full light, Dean and Kyle’s cut and bruised faces looked even worse.

Getting mad at the two idiots, I said in my best bitch voice, “Are you two finished with the immature macho bullshit?” Both of them shared a sheepish look and nodded.

Sam snickered and teased Dean and Kyle, “Don’t worry, Rachel. The minute that horse came running into the yard, these two couldn’t work together fast enough.” I smiled and settled back onto Dean’s arm. I was jarred into full alert when Sam said in a concerned tone, “I don’t think the horse getting spooked was an accident. I found this laying on the ground.” Sam pulled a small black bag out of his jacket pocket. Dean and Kyle both quickly learned forward to get a better look.

“A hex bag! How the hell could a witch know that Rachel was going to be riding out there tonight unless they were watching the ranch?” Dean growled angrily. “Kyle do you have any ranch hands here?”

“Yeah, there’s five permanent guys staying in the bunkhouse.” He said carefully as he began to think fast and hard about his employees and cataloging if they could be here for sinister purposes.

“We knew the minute we left the bunker, there was a chance of demons, witches, or something else tracking us.” I said calmly because Dean looked like he was about to grab me and make a run for the Impala.

“Alright let’s start from the beginning. Tell me everything.” Kyle started asking questions about details of the prophecy and the Mark. After about an hour, I said, “I’m going to make us some supper.” And left to go into the kitchen knowing that cooking was going to get my mind off something trying to harm or possibly kill me.

Finding some sirloin steaks in the fridge, I sliced them into thin strips and put the meat on the grill stove top. Slicing up onion, poblano peppers, tomato, and avocado for a huge batch of fajitas, I worked out my tension. I mixed up flour, water, and lard and made fresh tortillas and placed them in the oven to stay warm. The scent of grilling meat fresh tortillas must have moved down the hallway because all three of the men came into the kitchen and sat at the dining table. “What is this fascination with watching me cook?” I teased them. After getting everything together and putting sour cream on the table, I got a stack of plates from the cabinet over the sink. After I filled their plates and carried them to the dining table.  I pulled three beers and a Sprite out of the fridge and handed the drinks out before sitting between Kyle and Dean to eat.

Hunting stories were shared back and forth between the Winchesters and Kyle. Several times my mouth dropped at the details of Kyle’s exploits since I had no idea my brother had been so deeply involved in the hunter's life. Sharing not only stories, they talked about techniques and lore. It was a fascinating conversation, and my pride swelled at now knowing my brother was courageous not only on the battlefield but also in civilian life. I guessed it wasn’t that much of a change from warrior to hunter.

After dinner, Sam and Dean volunteered to clean up the kitchen and wash dishes so Kyle and I could spend some time alone. We went and sat in the rocking chairs on the back porch. Both of us were now armed with handguns since Sam had discovered a hex bag was what spooked the horse. Since my entire image of Kyle had changed in such a short amount of time, we talked about our childhood and time with Bruce in light of this new perspective. “Bruce was a good man, Rachel. He was doing what he thought was best for you. He agonized about the decisions that affected you. We both did. I am sorry if the choices we made didn’t turn out for the best. He trained you to survive anything.” Kyle spoke softly.

“Now I am hip deep in this life, so all we can do is take it one day at a time.” I sighed accepting everything was in the past and we needed to concentrate on the future.

After we sat in silence for a while, Kyle asked, “What are your plans about Dean and the baby?”

“Dean and I haven’t talked about any future plans.” I said.

“Are you happy with him, Rachel? Do you love him?” Kyle asked seriously.

“Yes, Kyle. I do love him and I want this baby. I’ll take any kind of life with him and raise this child to know the truth about their father and uncles.” I said a little harshly to make clear that I won’t tolerate any more secrets.

“I understand. Whoa, I’m going to be an uncle. I have to say that sounds good, so you have my full support whatever you chose to do with your life.” Kyle said with complete honesty.

“Thank you, Kyle. I have a feeling it is going to take everything the four of us have to untangle this prophecy mess.”

Knocking on the back door jam, Dean asked, “OK if Sam and I join you?” The radiant smile I gave Dean was returned and I moved over to the porch swing so we could sit together. Sam took the rocking chair that I had vacated. The evening breeze felt so good and the four of us shared the peaceful time knowing it was a rare precious gift. We spent another hour talking before Kyle showed Sam to a guest bedroom, and Dean and I went to my room to sleep for the night.


	11. Hunters' life

Waking up in my old room was a little disorienting until my stomach rebelled and I jumped up barely making it to the toilet gagging. A wet washrag was laid on the back of my neck and my hair was lifted away from my face while I crouched over the toilet. After the dry heaves ceased, Dean wiped my pale face with the cool washrag. Without a word, he handed me a glass of water and my toothbrush and left the bathroom. After brushing my teeth, washing my face, and pulling my hair back into a ponytail, I went downstairs.

Sam, Kyle, and Dean were all sitting at the kitchen table with coffee cups. I could tell right away something bad had happened. As I walked into the kitchen Kyle looked up worriedly and said, “Andy, my buddy at the sheriff’s office called me this morning.

They found a body chained to the old oak tree on the square. He was marked with a sigil carved into his chest. Rachel, it was Larry Ashland.” My knees buckled, and Dean caught me to help me sit in a chair.

“Who’s Larry Ashland?” He asked watching me closely.

“He was a friend of mine in Jr. High. He was the first boy I ever dated.” Dean didn’t like hearing that and he scowled. At first, I thought it was jealousy, but quickly realized Dean was furious because of my distress.

Sam said, “Dean, let’s see if the locals will let a couple of FBI agents take a look at the body and evidence.”

“Rachel, you and Kyle need to make a list of any more “old” friends that are still in Cheyenne who might be a target if this is about you.” Dean continued.

“While you boys are in town, I’m going to double check the backgrounds of the ranch employees to make sure the ranch is going to be safe.” Kyle volunteered.

“I want to look into the local history and see if there’s something going on here with the town and see if there might be a connection.” I was ready to stop being the reactive victim and hit this hunt head on.

Dean and Sam quickly got up and went upstairs to change into their standard FBI suits. Seeing Dean in a suit, I couldn’t resist straightening his striped tie and telling him how sexy I thought he was. He leaned down and gave me a deep kiss before heading out to the Impala with Sam. Kyle and I went into the study with our coffee and I used his laptop to look through local history. Kyle pulled his personnel files and got on the phone doing fact checking. We worked together occasionally sharing something of importance or interest. Kyle hung up the phone and turned to me, “All the ranch hands check out.

Unless they’ve run into something after coming to work for me, then these guys are ok.” We shared a look between us both thinking the same thing. The ranch hands could be possessed by Crowley’s demons, and we wouldn’t know it without testing them with holy water.

I recognized the engine sound of the Impala as soon as it turned off the highway so I got up to meet Sam and Dean on the front porch. As Dean parked in the driveway, Kyle joined me on the porch. Both Dean and Sam had grim expressions as they climbed the front steps. Dean wrapped his arms around me before he and Sam both shed their suit coats and loosened their ties in the Texas heat. Laying his coat and tie on the porch railing, Dean turned to us and said, “The locals have no clue what is really going on. Sam and I talked to the lady who found the body, a Mrs. Bloom. She was opening up her store on the town square when she saw something in the fenced area around the oak tree. She went over and found Larry cuffed with the frontier shackles. His shirt was open and this symbol was carved on his chest.” Dean pulled out his phone and opened the photos to show Kyle and me a close up of the carving.

My stomach clenched in response to seeing the bloodied symbol carved in human flesh. I was relieved that I didn’t have to see the dead face of my childhood friend. “I’ve never seen anything like that,” I whispered.

“I’m going to run it through my symbol recognition program and see if we get a match.” Sam said.

Kyle asked, “Did you talk to Andy?” Sam answered, “Yeah, he let us see all the evidence they gathered at the crime scene.”

Kyle stood up and said, “Rachel and I didn’t find anything on our end but all the ranch hands are vetted. Unless there’s something supernatural going on with them, I think the ranch is safe. I’ve got some things to do around the ranch this morning. You boys know anything about horses?”

I couldn’t help a giggle because I was pretty sure Sam and Dean had never been around a horse much less on one in their lives. Sam and Dean both looked at me with wounded male ego for laughing at them. “I’m sure we can handle it.” Dean responded.

With a laugh, Kyle said, “Well you better get changed out of those suits.” Sam went running upstairs with a huge grin like an eager little boy. Dean and I went upstairs together because I wanted a chance to be with him in private. I sat on the edge of the bed while Dean changed clothes. “What the hell do I wear to work with horses?”

“Boots, jeans, and t-shirt will be fine. Work gloves you can borrow from Kyle.” I laughed because he looked so uncomfortable with the idea. “Don’t worry, Kyle won’t let you do anything that will hurt the horses.” I teased. He shot me a look that promised payback. After pulling on his boots, he dove at me on the bed pressing me back into the pillows. Slanting his head, Dean kissed me and slid his tongue over mine deliberately arousing me. His taste was like smooth honey liquor and I was quickly intoxicated being in Dean’s arms. He pressed his hips into mine and let me feel his arousal stroking and making me wet.

Loud banging on the door interrupted us. I was surprised to realize I was whimpering and clinging to his shoulders. Dean leaned up on his elbows and smiled down at my reddened well-kissed lips. “I guess I have to go help your brother.” He stood up and pulled me to my feet and opened the door. Sam was standing there and started grinning when he saw my tousled hair and swollen lips. “If you two are finished, Kyle’s waiting for us.” 

“Go ahead. You boys have fun!” I swatted Dean’s rear for getting me hot and then leaving me like that. I went back into the bathroom and put my hair back into a ponytail. I was completely in love with him but could we have a future together? Could we raise our child safely with being hunters? Taking a deep breath, I put aside my questions and went downstairs to research the symbol on Sam’s laptop.

During the next couple of hours I searched ancient languages databases and occult websites trying to find a match. With no further results or insights, I decided to make lunch so at least I could feel like I had accomplished something that day. In the kitchen, I found everything for making sub sandwiches and iced tea. Just as I finished cutting the sandwiches into 6-inch sections. I heard the back door open and deep male voices laughing and teasing each other. Kyle, Dean, and Sam walked into the kitchen. I was awed by their strength and handsome laughing faces. They all looked relaxed and enjoyed the company of each other doing physical labor. I thought my heart would burst from the love these three inspired in me. "Lunch is ready," I said a little choked with emotion.

"Awesome." Dean said smiling at me.

 Kyle walked over and wrapped me in a hug and said, "I've missed you so much, Rachel, but especially your cooking."

"Gross you smell like the barn floor." Laughing I shooed them all away to go wash up. We ate lunch while they told me stories about Dean and Sam's first experience of being around the quarter horses.

"You have beautiful animals, Kyle. Any chance you could teach me to ride?" Sam said eagerly.

"Sure. If you guys are going to stay around a while." Kyle said.

"We'll stay as long as Rachel wants to." Dean answered him. All three of them turned to look at me knowing we weren't going anywhere till we found out what was going on around me.

After lunch I decided to join the men in the ranch chores since I wasn't getting anywhere with researching the sigil. When I walked into the barn, I noticed they had cleaned up and repaired all the damage from Kyle and Dean's fight. After cleaning some bridles that I found that needed conditioning, I strolled out of the back of the barn and headed to the main arena where Kyle was training a three-year-old to cut calves from the herd. Dean and Sam were sitting on the top rail of the arena watching in admiration the skill of horse and rider working together.

Kyle was riding a sorrel quarter horse inside the arena with about 15 cows. He rode into the middle of the herd till he had one calf outside of the main herd. Then the sorrel began to dance between the calf and the herd dodging and blocking the calf from returning to the others. It was graceful and thrilling. "This is incredible, Rachel. I can't even tell if Kyle is giving the horse commands or if it is doing it on its own." Sam said to me as I climbed up to join them.

"It is a little of both. See Kyle is guiding the horse with his knees mostly. Once he chooses the calf, the horse's job is to keep it separated from the herd." I explained.

"Why? Why would you want to work that hard just to play dodge with a calf?" Dean asked curiously.

"Because once the calf is cut from the herd, it is much easier for another rider to rope it for tagging or vaccinating." I answered.

Kyle pulled the sorrel up and allowed the calf to return to the herd. He trotted over to where we were sitting and grinned, "Want to have a go, Rachel?"

"Hell, yeah!" I said jumping down into the arena. Kyle dismounted and I quickly swung into the saddle and grabbed the reins. I saw a worried look move across Dean's face.

When Kyle saw Dean's face he calmly said, "Don't worry. She's an expert rider and Duster here isn't green broke." Dean just gave Kyle a look like he didn't know what he was talking about.

I turned Duster toward the small herd and quickly cut a calf. Settling deep into the saddle, I let Duster surge back and forth in front of the calf. Every move and jump Duster made, I could anticipate through his tensing muscles a split second before he moved. It was thrilling feeling the harmony and power. Duster and I made a good team. After about 20 minutes, I rode over to the men perched on the top rail. I know I was shining with excitement because all three of them had huge smiles. Kyle said with pride, "You should see her run barrels."

"I am way out of practice for that Kyle!" I laughed.

Kyle's phone went off in his pocket and he pulled it out to answer it, "Remington, yeah?" After a few seconds, "Are you sure, Andy?" He listened for a minute. "Where?" I could see the tension spread through his large body quickly. "We're on our way." He said as he pushed the button to disconnect the call and focused on me. "There's another body with a symbol carved into the skin. Rachel, it's LeAnn." Duster danced beneath me as he sensed my sudden tension. I soothed him and dismounted so I could stroke his velvety nose calming the animal.

"Who's LeAnn?" Sam asked.

 "Another of Rachel's friends from when we were kids." Kyle answered through clenched teeth.

Taking a deep breath, I said, "Alright, let's get Duster stabled, and we'll go into Cheyenne." We walked back into the barn where one of the ranch hands was forking hay into the stall feeders. He was Hispanic and very lean about 50 years old.

"Hey, Tony. This is my sister,Rachel, and Sam and Dean Wi..." Kyle started to introduce us. "Wilson. Sam and Dean Wilson." Dean suddenly interrupted.

"Tony Garcia." Tony put out his hand to both Sam and Dean with a raised eyebrow at the obvious tactic to give a false name. "Tony has been with the Rocking R for over 10 years," Kyle interjected into the situation that was becoming tense very quickly. I saw Sam give a slight shake of his head to Kyle behind Tony's back. "Tony, cool down and stable Duster. We're going into town for a while." The four of us walked back into the ranch house and Kyle said angrily, "What the hell was that about?"

"I don't trust anybody right now except the people in this room." Dean's voice was low and deep.

Kyle relented and said, "Yeah, I know. We've got to find the asshole who is killing and carving up Rachel's old friends. Let's clean up and go see Andy." Thirty minutes later, we climbed into Kyle's truck and headed towards the sheriff's office in Cheyenne. Dean and I rode in the back seat, and I looked out the window thinking about the innocent people dying because they knew me. It was depressing and nobody said anything during the ride. We had to pass the town square, and it was a little shocking to see the crime scene tape around the historic oak tree.

Kyle pulled the truck into the gravel parking lot behind the sheriff's office and jail. The building was a historic structure, and the original jail when the town was founded in 1880. Painted black iron bars covered all the windows and the rough cut limestone exterior was painted a yellowish color. We walked up to the rear door, and Kyle pressed the buzzer. Andy opened the door, saw me, and exclaimed, "Rachel? Is that you!?! I'm so glad to see you alive, darling." Andy's smile was genuine while he leaned down to give me a hug. Andy was the same height and size as Kyle. They played football together in high school and served together in Iraq. He had dark brown curly hair and deep brown eyes. As I hugged him back, "It's good to see you again, Andy." I said. I heard Dean growl a little behind me so I let go of Andy and moved back to let Dean and Sam come inside the booking room.

Andy turned to Sam and Dean, "Agents, you didn't tell me you knew Kyle and Rachel."

Sam lied smoothly, "Kyle helped us on an investigation a few years ago, so when we were in the area he offered us a nicer place to stay than the local motel. Since we were already in the area we thought we could help out our friends here, unofficially of course."

"Sure. Quite frankly we could use all the help we can get. I've never seen anything like this." Andy replied.

Andy showed us into a conference room where photos were taped to the wall and files were spread on the table. Seeing the crime scene photos had me shaking a little. "Rachel, I'm sorry about Larry and LeAnn." Andy said, "We were all friends as kids." He said to Dean and Sam.

"Do you have any suspects or leads?" Sam asked.

"No. We haven't even been able to determine a cause of death or motive. There wasn't any sign of struggle or bodily harm except the symbol carved on both of the bodies. The coroner thinks the skin was cut while they were still alive but wasn't deep enough to be the cause of death." I was facing away from the men and winced when Andy was talking about the torture and how it must have been agonizing.

I didn't turn around but could tell all of the men were looking at me to judge my reaction. I straightened my spine, pulled my shoulders back, raised my chin and turned around to face four worried frowning men. "Was the symbol the same on both?"

Andy said, "Yes. We've sent photos along with all the other evidence to the crime lab in Austin."

"Where was LeAnn found?" Kyle asked.

"Oakwood Cemetery . You remember that old crypt on the west end. We used to try and scare each other when we were kids. Played truth or dare and spin the bottle in that place." Andy said looking at me and Kyle.

"Yeah, I remember it. Rachel, it was that brother and sister grave." Kyle answered. Sam asked, "Who else was part of your group?"

"Me, Kyle, Andy, Marcie Gonzales, Theresa Morales, Tim Frank's, and Chad Bennett. Larry and LeAnn were always with us too." I said.

"We need to get a hold of each of them. Make sure they haven't seen anything suspicious and are alerted to be careful with this psycho out there." Kyle said.

"We've already interviewed them all except Theresa. She hasn't been seen by her family for three days." Andy's tone was serious and worried.

"Do you think the sheriff would have a problem if Sam and I spoke to Theresa's family?" Dean asked.

"I think he would appreciate it. We haven't had a missing person case around here since Mrs. Jenkins wondered away from her daughter's house in a bout of dementia. We found her five blocks away buck naked in neighbor's porch swing." Andy replied. Even with the seriousness of what we were facing, Andy's tale gave us a chance to laugh.

After telling Andy we would be in touch, we headed to Kyle's truck and drove over to Theresa's house. While Kyle and I waited in the truck, Sam and Dean knocked on the door, flashed their badges to Theresa's sister and went inside. After about an hour, they came out to the truck and climbed in. "Ok, Theresa disappeared three days ago. Her husband has no idea why she would up and leave. He came home from work, and her car was gone. She didn't take any clothes or even her purse." Sam filled us in as we headed out to the cemetery.

Pulling through the gates of the Oakwood Cemetery, memories of running around as kids after dark trying to scare each other and just being kids washed over me. Dean reached over and took my hand sensing I needed his stability and security at that moment. Kyle parked the truck outside the old crypt that was surrounded by crime scene tape.

Hopping down from the truck, I joined the men and slid my hand into Dean's again. Ignoring the police line ribbon, we ducked under and went inside.

There was a pair of iron shackles hanging on the wall locked to one of the bars covering a small window. There was blood splatters on the floor and the wall. A shiver ran down my back, and I don't think it was from the drop in temperature in the shadowy interior. It was gloomy and I didn't want the mental image I was having of LeAnn being cut while she was still alive. Sam, Dean, and Kyle carefully inspected the crypt looking for any clues to what was going on. Wedged behind one of the crypt's headstones was a small black bag identical to the one Sam found on the ranch. Now we knew all of this was tied to me, and the men shared worried looks before they turned to look at me.

On the ride back to the ranch, I leaned against Dean in the backseat and took comfort from his strength. It was a somber 7 miles to the Rocking R and we went inside the study together. Kyle grabbed three beers and a Sprite out of the bar micro fridge.

Sam sat down at Kyle's desk and opened up his laptop to look for the symbol meaning. Dean and I sat on the couch where I laid against his chest and tucked my feet up on the couch. Kyle sat down in one of the wing chairs.

Taking a deep drink from his beer, Kyle let out an exasperated sign. "I hate not having a clear target. What the hell are we hunting?"

"I don't know. Could be a demon or witch or something we haven't seen before." Dean answered.

"Maybe it's a combination. I mean we've already heard from Crowley and found hex bags. Maybe demons and witches are working together." I added.

"Rachel might be right." Sam said which had us looking over toward him. "There's sulfur on the outside of the hex bag, and I got a match on the symbol."

"I tried all morning to find a match and couldn't get squat." I whined.

"Well that might be because the sigil is actually two symbols on top of each other. The bottom one is Enchoian for healer or doctor. The top one is Phoenician for surrender associated with death. That's a pretty powerful message and very specific to Rachel." Sam explained grimly.

"So, why warn us or give us a chance to prepare?" I asked.

 "Because they want you spooked. They want you to know they may not be able to get to you so they will go after everyone close to you." Dean said angrily.

"What would they have to gain by scaring or killing, Rachel?" Kyle asked.

 "The Mark of Cain. If Rachel heals Dean of the Mark, the demons lose a hold on me and Dean. There's no telling what Crowley had planned, but he was definitely involved in Dean getting the Mark to begin with. It makes sense he would be interested in Dean keeping it." Sam added.

"And his mother, Rowena, is a powerful witch." Dean interjected. "Shit! So the King of Hell really is a son of a bitch!" Kyle growled.

"So, what's our play. Now we know who we're up against, what's the plan?" I asked.

"We summon Crowley and drag his ass back to the dungeon lock room in the bunker and get him to back the fuck off." Dean ground out through his clenched jaw. "We'll need Castiel's help, but Rachel, I don't want you anywhere near this when it goes down."

"Well, suck it up buttercup. We are in this together and I will not sit on my thumbs while you three face the King of Hell. Forget it!" I said firmly.

"Come on guys back me up on this!" Dean begged Kyle and Sam.

 "Oh no! I am not going to make that mistake again. Rachel is a grown woman and can make her own decisions." Kyle surprised me when he said that. I shot him a wink before looking at Sam.

Sam paused thinking and then looking directly at Dean who had put his head down in his hands, "I think we're better off sticking together. We're family."

Taking Dean's hand I stood up and softly said, "Come on cowboy. Let's take a walk." He sighed and followed me out the back door. I headed towards the barn and went inside into the cooler structure. Turning left, I climbed the ladder into the hayloft with Dean right behind me. Sitting down on a hay bale, I watched Dean pace back and forth  as he dealt with our situation. Finally stopping to look at me, he groaned, "Rachel, you know I can't put you and the baby in danger."

"I know but right now in all this mess I'm not in danger. We're safe right now and that is all I care about." I stood up and reached up to place my hands on Dean's face.

Silently imploring him to forget the chaotic situation and just be with me in the moment, I reached up and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "You're manipulating me," he growled against my mouth.

"You bet your boots, cowboy." I smiled.

Tightening his arms, Dean deepened the kiss and passion flared between us like a bonfire. Pulling his t-shirt up I kissed his chest as I exposed his skin. Dean pulled my t- shirt off and unhooked my bra before putting his mouth on my breast and suckling. Our jeans were gone in a flurry of movement along with our boots. We fell in a tangle of limbs into a pile of loose hay and made love in the shadow of the barn loft door. Feeling the power building inside my chest, I let it flow out of me into Dean as we reached climax heightening the entire experience. As we drifted down from our shared ecstasy, Dean whispered, "I love you, Rachel." in my ear.

"I know." I smiled and held him to me running my fingertips up and down his back.

 Pushing up, Dean rolled onto his back and groaned, "Ow! You should have told me the hay was so uncomfortable."

I snickered, "I didn't notice. I guess I was occupied by something else. I take it this was your first experience with having sex in a hayloft?"

"I guess it isn't yours. " Dean was sounding a little pissed and jealous. I rolled onto my side and laid my hand on Dean's chest feeling his heartbeat slowing to normal.

"Actually this was my first roll in the hay!" I retorted. The breeze coming in the loft doors felt great cooling the sweat on my skin.

"Rachel, I know we haven't known each other very long, but I need to know if you want a future with me?" Dean spoke quietly. Leaning up on my elbow, I looked down into Dean's face. "What exactly are you asking me?"

"I want to know if I will be a part of your life and our child's." The worry lines between his brows were pulled together as he stared at the barn's ceiling.

"God, I hope so!" I gasped out. Dean's face immediately relaxed and his dazzling smile told me how much he liked my exclamation. He pulled my head down and gave me a deep kiss. After getting dressed we climbed down the ladder to the barn floor.

As I stepped off the ladder, I moved back to give Dean room to descend. I felt someone grab me yanking me up against a hard chest. An arm wrapped around my waist and a knife blade was pressed against my throat. "Shhh" was hissed in my ear by my unseen attacker. When Dean stepped off the ladder, he turned to say something to me.

He whipped the 9 mm from the small of his back so quickly his movements were blurred and pointed it towards the person holding me. "Let her go." Dean's voice was cold and hard. He started stalking toward us and his gun never wavered.

"Winchester, put the gun down or I'll open up an artery in this pretty little throat!" hissed a voice next to my ear. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw solid black eyes of Tony Garcia. A demon! Shit, Dean's gun isn't going to do any good. "Put it down, boy!" Dean's hands moved up and spread wide letting the gun dangle. The demon dragged me backward out of the barn into the yard in view of the ranch house.

"Ok, let her go. I did what you asked." Dean snarled.

"Well, well. Dean Winchester has a soft spot for this little piece of ass." Looking down at me the demon breathed into my ear, "Crowley is going to just love his prize." The demon licked the side of my face making my skin crawl. I chanced a look at Dean who was stone cold angry with a vein pulsing in his temple.

I saw Dean's eyes flicker over my right shoulder, and I braced myself for what happened next. The arm around my throat holding the knife was jerked away as Dean grabbed my wrist and roughly pulled me towards him. Dean wrapped me into his arms while I heard a scuffle behind me as blows fell against muscle and bone. Since my face was smashed against Dean's chest and I couldn't move from his tight hold on my body, I didn't know what was happening. Dean let go of me just enough so I could turn around but was still wrapped protectively in his strong arms.

Tony was lying on the ground handcuffed. His hands were connected by a chain and the cuffs were gold with engraved runes. Kyle and Sam were standing over him breathing hard. The demon was growling inhumanly while Kyle hauled him to his feet. Sam took a hold of Tony's arm and the two of them quick marched Tony into the barn while Dean and I followed them. Kyle called over his shoulder, "Dean there's a storm cellar door about a third of the way inside. You'll find a ring in the floor to swing the doors open and a chain on the side wall to secure them."

Dean moved ahead of them and found the doors in the barn floor. He pulled them open while Sam and Kyle man-handled the demon down the steps into the basement area. Dean and I descended the stairs into what was obviously Kyle's office where he did all his work related to hunting monsters. I saw weapons lining the walls, a huge map of Texas, a computer on a metal desk, and other items of a hunter's trade. I watched as they chained Tony into a chair in the middle of a devil's trap painted on the floor. Dean walked over and punched Tony in the face before Kyle grabbed him pushing him back like a linebacker.

"Dean, I know you want to kill him but that's a demon in an innocent man! We need to interrogate the demon and then you can exorcise it back to Hell!" Kyle yelled. I went to stand in front of Dean who was breathing hard and flexing his hands into fists.

I placed my hands on his chest and calmly said, "Dean, I'm ok. He didn't hurt me." When Dean's muscles relaxed, Kyle released him so I could move forward and wrapped my arms around his lean waist.

Sam began gathering holy water, salt, a Kurdish demon killing knife, and a book of exorcisms. Kyle and Sam went to work on getting the demon to talk without doing permanent injury to Tony Garcia. Dean smiled wickedly every time the demon screamed from their attentions. After about an hour, the demon screamed, "Enough! Enough. Crowley isn't after Rachel. It's Rowena! She wants the Healer to control the Winchesters and make Dean her pawn. She told me to grab the little bitch and make sure I said I was working for Crowley." The thing whimpered and slumped in the chair.

"So, Rowena is making a grab for power." Sam said. "That bitch is mine!" Dean snarled.

"Get in line! I owe her and it's personal!" I said in a deathly serious voice.

Opening the book, Sam read aloud the Latin exorcism phrases. The demon screamed, growled, and moaned before flowing out of Tony's mouth in black smoke and burning on the floor. Tony groaned and looked up at the four of us. "What's going on, boss?" Sam and Kyle knelt and unchained Tony.

"You don't want to know, Tony." Kyle said. "Take a few days off and you might want to attend Mass." After Tony looked curiously at each of us, he walked up the storm cellar steps.

"Wow, this has been a hell of a day!" I grumbled pathetically.

"Does that mean you don't fell like cooking supper?" Sam asked sadly. Smiling at Sam for helping to ease the tension in the room, I said, "Let Kyle put some steaks on the grill, and I'll toss up a salad."

"Steak!" Dean sounded wistful and hopeful. Amazed at not only my resiliency but also the three men with me, I gave each of them a hug showing how proud I was of them. We straightened up the storm cellar office, climbed the stairs, and Kyle dropped the doors closed. Kicking some hay and dirt around the floor, he concealed the doors again from prying eyes. We returned to the ranch house, and Kyle fired up the outdoor grill. Once again seasoning steaks and cutting up vegetables for salad calmed all my tension through the ordinary domestic task of cooking.

Dean sat at the breakfast bar watching me work in the kitchen. "You are making me nervous watching me like a hawk," I said without looking up from my task. "Sorry, it is my turn to process ok so just give me a little time," Dean said. I set down the chopping knife and came around the counter to caress Dean's shoulder. He turned on the bar stool and wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face against my neck breathing deeply. I held him for several minutes stroking his hair thinking about soothing him. Suddenly, the burning started in my chest and the electric current flowed down my arms through my fingertips into the back of Dean's neck.

Dean jerked back staring at me with wide green eyes and open-mouthed. "Was that what I think it was? Did you just do your healing thing without us having sex?"

"I guess I did." I stammered.

Sam and Kyle walked into the kitchen and seeing the shocked look on our faces, Kyle asked, "What just happened?"

"Rachel just did her healing thing." Dean said.

"So, we already knew she did that." Kyle rolled his eyes.

"No, this is the first time she did it when we weren't having sex." Dean explained.

"Whoa! T.M.I.! I don't even want to think about you with my little sister...Wait, Ewwww, now I need a Brillo pad to scrub that image out of my head." Kyle groaned. Sam snickered and slapped Kyle on the back, "Join the club, brother. It's you and me now."

"Ok, without the R-rated version, so Rachel may be getting more powerful. More in control?" Kyle guessed.

"I don't know what's happening, and I definitely can't control it. It is like instinctive but it only happens with Dean." I said.

"Have you tried it on somebody else?" Kyle asked.

"Hey hold up! Till now it was a very intimate act, and Rachel isn't sleeping with some other guy to test a theory!" Dean stated flatly.

"Ok, I get it, but what about someone Rachel is emotionally connected to like me?" Kyle picked up the chopping knife from the counter and drew the blade across his forearm before I could stop him. "What are you doing, you idiot!?" I yelled.

Holding out the arm dripping blood on the bar, Kyle said to me, "Try healing it, Rachel. See if you can." I shot him a look that said I thought he just took a trip on the crazy train, but I still walked over to him. I took hold of his arm above and below the three-inch gash. Thinking about how much I loved him, and how I would do anything to keep him from being hurt, I concentrated hard. I felt the familiar burning in my chest and the current flowed into his arm. Kyle's head jerked up to stare at me. Dean and Sam leaned forward to watch the cut slowly close leaving only a thin white scar. No one said a word for several minutes. I let go of Kyle's arm, and he twisted it around looking at it from all angles. "Let me try!" Sam said

"NO! Enough experiments. We proved I can heal at will, but I think Kyle was right. I have to be emotionally connected to the person because that is what I concentrated on, how much I loved Kyle and would do anything to stop his pain." I replied.

"If that's true, how could you heal me after just meeting me in less than 2 days? Don't tell me love at first sight" Dean asked a little suspiciously.

"Dean, I felt a connection to you the second I saw you in the Austin airport." I turned and smile up at him. "Whether that was love at first sight or destiny or just sensing your pain, I just know we have a connection between us." Turning back to Kyle, I said in my best mom voice, "You are cleaning up that blood, big brother!" Kyle grabbed a washcloth and wiped the counter with disinfectant. He grabbed the steaks and took them outside to the grill. Sam followed him.

"Dean I'm going to take a quick shower. Take some beers out to Kyle and Sam and you guys relax." I turned to Dean and gave him a soft kiss.

"Sure you don't want me to wash your back?" he gave me his best leer. Laughing I pushed him to the fridge and turned on my heel to head upstairs.

After washing off all the dust from the barn loft, I braided my wet hair and pinned it up. Finding a white cotton dress, I pulled it over my head and let the peasant neckline hang off my left shoulder exposing a fair amount of skin. Putting a little mascara, eyeliner, and tinted lip gloss on, I finished dressing with a silver conch belt riding on my hips and a pair of flat sandals. I went downstairs and followed the sound of deep male voices onto the back porch. I paused in the doorway, listening to the sounds of the nighttime insects and the sizzle of steaks grilling.

Sam saw me standing there first and nudged Dean with a huge smile on his face. Dean turned around and froze. I bit my bottom lip trying to read his expression when he walked over, stood directly in front of me and in a husky voice said, "Rachel you are so beautiful." Drowning in his gorgeous eyes, I couldn't say anything so I reached up behind his neck and pulled him down so I could kiss him with all the emotion I couldn't say. A deep throat clearing brought us back to reality and we stepped apart breathing hard. "Damn, Rachel. Let the poor man breathe!" Kyle teased. Sam threw back his head and laughed.

Dean and I sat in the porch swing while Kyle finished up the steaks and drank  their beer. Kyle pulled the dripping steaks off the grill and carried them inside on a platter. We had dinner at the kitchen table and discussed how we would go after Rowena. "We'll need someone who knows how to trap a witch. What about Pamela Thompson.

She knows the occult and witchcraft better than anybody else." Sam suggested.

"I might know somebody right here in Cheyenne who can help us." Kyle said. "There's an old Comanche shaman who lives at the old rail depot next to the peanut factory. Let's go visit him first thing tomorrow."

"Are you talking about Chief Tomas? He always fascinated me. You know when every other teenager said he was just a crazy old man, I would leave homemade cookies for him occasionally." I said.

"Do you still make cookies?" Sam asked so wistfully that I decided to make him a batch of chocolate chip after dinner.

After we put our plates in the dishwasher, the three men went into the study to work on details of stopping Rowena. I mixed up a double batch of chocolate chip cookies and had them cooling on the stove in less than 30 minutes. Filling a platter, I carried it into the study. Like little boys, Sam, Dean, and Kyle shoved cookies into their mouths licking their fingers when the warm chocolate dripped onto their hands. I was shocked when 2 dozens cookies vanished in less than 15 minutes. "Oh my God! Rachel, will you marry me?" Sam said in such a teasing way that I put my hand on my forehead and swooned onto the couch in a fake faint.

"Not funny, Sam!" Dean growled.

"Maybe not but the look on your face sure the hell is. Damn, Dean, she really does rule you!" Kyle teased Dean. My blood ran cold at Kyle's words repeating the prophecy. Dean noticed my pale face and immediately sat down and tucked me tight against him. Kyle realized his poor choice of words and said quietly, "Rachel, I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that."

"It's okay, Kyle." I smiled at him a little sadly.

We all got sober at the reminder of the prophecy and that blood and sacrifice were still to come. After ten o'clock, I started drifting off to sleep leaning into Dean's warmth soothed by the rumble of deep voices in the room.

"Alright, bedtime, darling." Dean said as he picked me up, cradled me to his chest and carried me upstairs. Reaching my bedroom, Dean gently undressed me, pulled one of his t-shirts over my head, and tucked me up against him under the quilt. I fell asleep listening to Dean's heartbeat.


	12. Chief Tomas

Once again morning sickness hit me as soon as I woke up. Dean was there taking care of me without a word. I appreciated his silence and ability to just be with me when I needed him. After nausea passed, I walked into the bedroom to see Dean sitting on the edge of the bed leaning his forearms on his knees. He looked deep in thought with his hands clasped so I walked over and put my hand on his shoulder.

After looking up at me intently, Dean said. "Rachel, do you want to get married?"

Since that was the last thing I thought he would say, my mouth fell open and then closed like a trap. "Wh...what?" I stuttered.

"Will you marry me? Will you take my last name and will you give our child my name?" A tear slid down my cheek and Dean caught it in his hand as I looked down at him.

"Yes." I whispered.

Still sitting on the side of the bed, he wrapped his arms around my waist and held me against him. I stroked his hair as he pressed the side of his face to my stomach. I stood there holding him for several minutes absorbed in the peace I found being with him. He stood up and asked, "Do you want to tell Kyle and Sam right away or wait?"

Laughing, "Like I could keep this from our brothers!" Dean kissed me and we went downstairs to tell our brothers our decision. Lots of hugs and back slapping followed our announcement.

"As much as I would love to do nothing more than spending the day planning your bachelor party, we got work to do." Sam said somberly.

"Sam's right. Let's get Rowena out of our lives and then we'll celebrate with a Texas size wedding." Kyle said.

We left to consult Chief Tomas deciding to take the Impala. Sam and I rode in the back seat while Dean drove and Kyle rode shotgun. We pulled into the weed-choked parking lot in front of the old railway station. The station platform was converted into a front porch with ceramic pots of tomato plants and pepper vines lining the edges. Bone carvings and wood wind chimes hung around the top edge of the roof with a large no trespassing sign nailed to a post. Dean parked the Impala in front of the dilapidated station building next to a rusty old pick-up truck. We got out of the car, and Kyle and I walked up onto the converted porch. Kyle knocked hard on the station door and then took a step back. We both heard a television inside so Kyle knocked again. A gruff voice came from inside the station. "Keep your damn shirt on!"

The door opened to reveal a dark and weathered skinned gray-haired man with long braids. He was short only about five feet and wrinkled like an old saddle bag left in the sun to dry out. He was wearing a faded old denim western shirt, blue jeans, and cowboy boots.

"Kyle Remington. What the hell are you doing here?" Chief Tomas' voice was rough and gravelly from too many years and too many cigarettes. 

I stepped from behind Kyle's massive shoulders, "Howdy, Chief Tomas. Good to see you again."

Chief Tomas pulled out a pair of wire-rimmed glasses from his breast pocket and squinted at me. He stared at me for a long time as Sam and Dean walked up to the bottom of the steps of the platform. "You, Rachel Remington, have been touched by the spirit world." His eyes were unfocused like he was seeing something just beyond me.

"That's why we're here Chief. We need some advice." Kyle said.

"I will give whatever answers you need. I remember you were the girl who left cookies on my porch for years." He smiled at me and took my hand between both of his.

"Come inside and we'll talk." Drawing me inside, Chief Tomas motioned the men to follow. "You boys want a beer?" After we introduced Sam and Dean, he shuffled into one of the back rooms and brought back four beers and a bottle of water. We took seats around a low round table. I sat between Dean and Kyle on a low sofa while Sam took an arm chair. Chief Tomas handed out the bottles, and when he handed me the water, our eyes met. "I know," he said simply. On the table was a large glass ashtray with a braided twig of sage beside it. Chief Tomas took a Zippo out of his pocket and lit the sage placing it to smolder in the ashtray. The smoke drifted up sweet smelling, and I found I liked it. Chief Tomas sat down in a chair across from us and opened his beer. After taking a drink, he asked, "What do you need from me?"

"We need to trap a very powerful witch and protect Rachel and my baby from demons." Dean said bluntly.

"Demons and witches. You have gotten yourself into some bad company, Little Rachel." Chief Tomas looked at Dean when he said, "You're marked, boy, but she's your savior." Dean shot a surprised look between me and Chief Tomas.

"I have some things that will help you, boys." Getting up again, he went into the back room and returned with a packet wrapped in tanned animal hide. Laying it on the table he unwrapped several items and a square of tanned hide with ink writing on it. Handing the leather scroll to Kyle, he said, "That is instructions on making a medicine wheel witch trap. You remember any of the Comanche languages I taught you, boy?"

"Yes, sir." Kyle replied immediately.

Picking up a small leather bag, Chief Tomas handed it to Dean. "That is a medicine bag that will keep the demons off your scent and those around you."

"Thank you, sir." Dean said sincerely.

"Rachel, this is for you." He held out a bracelet of braided leather. There were carved bone beads laced into the leather thongs. Silver beads dangled from the ends of the leather thongs.

"Thank you. It is beautiful, Chief." I turned to Dean so he could tie the ends of the bracelet on my left wrist. "What is it?"

"A blessing from the Great Mother for strength and wisdom during your time of trials." Chief Tomas stood up with the obvious intent of seeing us out. "Rachel, you bring me some more cookies when you can, girl." I walked around the table and kissed him on his wrinkled cheek. We walked out onto the station platform, and Chief Tomas closed his door without another word.

Opening the leather scroll, Kyle scanned the writing. "This thing takes a lot of unique ingredients. It is going to take a few days to gather all the stuff."

"Let's head back out to the ranch, translate that writing completely so we know exactly what we are going to need." Dean said. "Kyle you want to drive back?" My eyes widened at Dean offering to let anyone else drive the Impala before he said, "Rachel, ride in back with me."

Sam climbed into the front seat with Kyle and we headed out. I slid into the middle of the back seat as Dean curled his arm around me, and I placed my hand on his thigh. "I just wanted to be close to you because I have a feeling we are not going to get a chance to be alone much in the coming days," he whispered in my ear. Knowing he was right, I leaned into him and enjoyed the short trip back to the ranch. Kyle took the turn onto the ranch driveway a little too fast causing the Impala to slide a little and the tires to throw dirt. The three men just laughed enjoying the well made classic American machine.

After parking next to Kyle's truck, we all got out and went into the study. Kyle laid out the leather scroll while Sam got his laptop ready to use if we needed his translation program. I got a legal pad and pen to write notes as Kyle read from the leather out loud. Dean sat down on the couch next to me. The minerals that typically go onto an Indian medicine wheel were listed first.

There were three additional items that Sam needed to begin researching for us to know what they even were: Tear from the Great Spirit, a drop of milk from the Great Mother, and piece of Heaven's veil. Sam started tapping keys on his laptop and then exclaimed, "Got it. Crystalized sand from a lightning strike, a pearl from a fresh water oyster, and a fragment of a meteorite." The wheel has to be drawn on an area of holy ground in the blood of an eagle. A chant in native Comanche entrapping the witch could only be spoken by a woman finished the instructions on the leather.

"Well, that pretty much guarantees that Rachel will have to be there." Dean said flatly.

 "I'm more worried about how we get enough eagle blood without killing one." I said firmly. "We are NOT killing any eagles!"

 "That is going to seriously hinder our ability to get this done soon." Kyle stated. "It could take weeks if we are going to collect enough eagle blood in small quantities." Sam said.

"I don't care how long it takes. There are just some things I am not going to do or compromise on. It is too high a price to give up what moral value I have left and I will not kill eagles for this!" I cried out. Dean nodded his head in agreement.

"Ok, I've got a friend at A&M who is an avian vet doing research on raptors. I'll call her and see if we can get what we need over the next few weeks." Kyle conceded.

I sighed in relief, and we got to work gathering the materials needed. Over the next four weeks, Dean, Sam, and I lived at the ranch and worked beside Kyle when we weren't looking for items listed on the leather scroll. Kyle gave riding lessons to both Sam and Dean and by the end of the first week both of them were able to ride fairly well in the western saddles. I teased Dean that he should be a natural on a horse since he had slightly bowed legs. Sam was thrilled and spent every spare minute in the barn and arena with his favorite horse which was a palomino mare. We had a few more close calls with demons doing Rowena's bidding but nothing like Tony. Every Friday, a FedEx box would arrive from Kyle's vet friend with vials of eagle blood, and we managed to obtain all the other items during the second week. Kyle found an old map of the county, and we plotted a Comanche village that would serve as scared ground due to a burial mound on it. I practiced the chant with Kyle and during the third week I spent a few afternoons with Chief Tomas to get the cadence perfect. Of course, I brought fresh baked cookies as payment. Finally, by the fourth Saturday, we were ready to trap Rowena.


	13. Finally We Fight

Dean and I were sitting on the back porch swing after dinner enjoying the cooler nighttime breeze the Friday before we were to set the witch's trap. He had his arm laid on the back of the swing and was softly pushing the swing with his booted foot while I was tucked up against him with my feet on curled on the seat. Neither of us felt like talking so the night air was filled with nothing more than crickets and the buzz of June bugs. It was so peaceful that for a moment, I thought there is nothing wrong with our lives, and we could spend the rest of our lives in Cheyenne. When I felt the gun digging into my  leg from the ankle holster I was wearing I knew this time wasn't going to last which made it that much more precious.

"You ready for tomorrow?" Dean spoke quietly.

"I don't think I will ever be completely ready to face a witch who is determined to kill me, but you can trust me to do my part."

"I don't want you there. I'd rather you be hundreds of miles away in the bunker. If I thought I had another option, I'd stuff you in the Impala and drive the hell out of here." Dean's voice was low and harsh.

"You, Kyle, and Sam need me, though, so you are stuck with me." I tried to smile up at him but failed. Dean pulled me over till I was sitting on his lap, wrapped his arms around my waist, and bent down to kiss me. Softly sliding his lips over mine, quickly became a hard need to be as close as possible. After ravaging my mouth, Dean broke away and his eyes were burning like twin green flames. He carried me upstairs and made love desperately. It was with such a mutual need that we both fought to touch and be touched as much as possible. After the healing power passed between us, I looked at Dean's arm where the Mark was barely visible. I wondered what would happen when it was completely gone.

The next morning I didn't wake up feeling sick at all, in fact, I felt better than I had in a long time. Dean was still asleep, and I got to watch him sleep for a little while. He was so boyish when he was completely relaxed, and I thought my heart would thump out of my chest from the love I felt for this man. I couldn't resist touching him so I ran my fingertips over his beautiful mouth which caused him to twitch like it tickled and wake up. Those green apple eyes were so gorgeous in the morning sunlight streaming through the open bedroom window that my breath stopped. He smiled and my breath came in hard from the dazzling smile of his. "Do you know how good looking you are?" I whispered.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" Dean whispered back. He picked up my left hand and kissed the silver ring he had slipped on my finger last night. He wanted to get me a diamond ring, but I told him that his mother's wedding band meant more to me for an engagement ring than any cold diamond. Knowing we had a lot to do to get ready for tonight, we left the bed and got dressed.

Kyle and Sam were already in the kitchen drinking coffee and talking about the plans. "Morning". I kissed each of them on the cheek and headed to the coffee maker. "I think we should pack up and ride out to the site before noon. That will give us enough time to build the medicine wheel and set up camp." Kyle said. We decided that we'd be prepared to camp out for a few days because if we did trap Rowena, we didn't want to have to move her till we had a guarantee she wasn't going to try manipulating Dean anymore. The terrain was too rough even for Kyle's 4 wheel drive, so the four of us were going to ride out on horses with a pack mule. After I made a big breakfast and we ate, Sam announced, "Alright, let's get this show on the road."

The horses for each of us were tied to the arena railing saddled and ready to go when we walked out of the house with our packs. Kyle had the pack mule loaded with camping supplies and water barrels, and the four horses were his best trail horses. We tied our packs on the back of our saddles and mounted up. Kyle took the lead with Sam riding behind Dean and me, and we road out of the ranch and headed west towards the sacred Indian ground. It took us six hours to reach the burial mound since we stopped to water the horses twice and eat lunch.

Kyle chose a campsite on the north side of the burial mound where there was a small gully to hobble the horses and keep them out of site. We unloaded the pack mule and stacked our gear. While Kyle, Sam, and Dean went to look over the area and plan for strategic advantages or weaknesses, I set up the fire ring and tripod for cooking over an open fire. I finished getting the camp site ready so I walked over to see the area that we were going to try to catch a witch.

The burial mound was just a small hill no more than 15 feet wide. From the leather scroll, I knew I was going to be standing on top of it in an authentic tanned deer hide dress thanks to a loan from Chief Tomas. I was to sing the chant at moon rise which according to Google was going to be at 8:43 pm that night. The medicine wheel trap was to be at the west side of the burial mound and I was to face west with my arms to the north and south compass points. I practiced the chant and arm movements several times with Chief Tomas, I felt ready to give a flawless performance.

Kyle had the leather scroll laid on a flat rock, and the men were crouched down on their heels around it. I walked over to them. "Let's clear out an area about 20 feet wide to make the wheel. We'll need to sweep it out down to the bare rock to paint the wheel with the eagle blood and then lay out the minerals at the intersections." Kyle said to Dean and Sam.

"We better get started to get this thing done before moon rise." Sam said. For the next hour, we all moved small rocks and vegetation from the 20 feet area that Kyle paced out. Using tumbleweeds, I swept the area out till the bedrock was exposed. Dean marked the medicine wheel lines with spray paint and then we dabbed the eagle blood on the paint. Kyle laid out pottery bowls to place the minerals with the crystallized sand, pearl, and meteorite fragment in the center. We finished the medicine wheel right at sundown, so we ate supper to keep up our strength for the coming fight. I went into the gully for privacy while I changed into the deer hide leather dress and braided my hair as instructed on the scroll.

When I came back into the campsite, Dean looked at me and laughed, "Well hello, Pocahontas."

Sam snorted, "You really do look like an Indian maiden, Hiawatha."

"Ha ha, very funny you two. Why couldn't the instructions have included all of you in loincloths?" I retorted. "That probably would have attracted every witch and succubus in a 100-mile radius."

"Bring them on!" Kyle smiled and then got serious, "Ok, here's the plan. Rachel, you will be on the burial mound performing the chant. Sam, Dean, and I will be on the edges of the medicine wheel to make sure Rowena doesn't get out. Let's get ready."

 Since I couldn't have any weapons other than a bone dagger, according to the instructions, I felt vulnerable and exposed on the top of the burial mound. I looked East and saw the sliver of moonrise and started the chant finding the natural rhythm in the words in their native language. At first, my voice was timid and weak but very quickly my voice grew strong and clear with confidence. The wind picked up, and I heard wolves howling in the distance.

I thought I saw eyes glowing around us. Since I couldn't stop the chant once I started, I couldn't warn the men. I looked down at them and saw they had seen the eyes too and were preparing for any attack. Dean had his 9 mm in his hand and a shotgun slung across his back with a bandolier full of shells. Sam had two handguns and a machine gun strapped to his waist. Kyle had an automatic rifle in his hands and a pair of pistols in holsters around his waist.

As the moonlight touched the medicine wheel, I could feel the power coming from it like a tingling on my skin. It was building as the moon rose and my chanting continued.  I thought I saw shadowy figures moving just beyond my vision in the darkness. Strange sounds began coming from the darkness that was not human and goosebumps broke out all over my skin. I was feeling a strange sense of connection with the earth and rock behind my bare feet when a figure moved out of the darkness walking towards us. It was cloaked so we could not see if it was male or female. All three men tensed as it approached, entered the medicine wheel, and threw off the cloak.

Standing in the middle of the wheel was my childhood friend Theresa Morales.

Where the hell was Rowena? In a voice that was too deep and resonating to come from a human, Theresa said, "Why have you summoned me?"

Kyle asked a question of his own, "Who are you?"

"I am the Mother's consort." Even though I saw Theresa's lips move, I knew the voice was not coming from her vocal chords. It resonated at a frequency that you could not only hear but also feel. "I am called Tonga in this world." I continued the chant. I could feel the power radiating from the wheel, and it was gathering in me.

"Where's Rowena?" Dean demanded. "Why are you here?"

"That one is a servant to me. She does my bidding. The witch has brought you to me." the inhuman voice said. "I come for the Healer. As the Mother is creation and life, I am destruction and death." At that, Dean raised his gun towards Theresa.

"What do you want with the Healer?" Sam spoke up.

"To destroy the Healer. The Healer serves the Great Mother and I must destroy all She creates." The voice was flat and without emotion, but I was threatened and fear was taking hold of me, so my voice shook slightly and I stuttered over a syllable in the chant. The being turned toward me on the burial mound in a flash and the grin was pure evil. "Ahhh, the Healer is here."

Dean, Sam, and Kyle charged their guns and pointed them directly at Theresa.

Right then, all hell broke loose. Wolves came out of the shadows and attacked the men. I watched in horror as wolves jumped towards Dean, Sam, and Kyle, and they opened fire. The power coming from the wheel was building into a pitch inside of me but I knew I couldn't stop and help them. The thing that was possessing Theresa was much more dangerous than the wolves, and my chanting was the only thing keeping it trapped. Gunfire shattered across the night and smoke gathered from the gun barrels in a cloud above the medicine wheel.

I saw a wolf get a hold of Sam's leg and dragged him down. As Sam fell, Kyle turned the machine gun on the wolf attacking Sam. Dean had two wolves stalking him so he shot one the closest one in the head and swung around to shot the other as it lunged. There was blood being splattered all over the wheel and the woman standing in the middle of it. As fast as the attack began, it stopped. The wolves that were alive and able to melted back into the darkness surrounding us. Several bodies of wolves lay motionless on the ground around the medicine wheel.

Theresa's eyes were glowing red, and she no longer resembled the woman I knew. Her face had distorted into something demonic looking and hideous. "You will pay for the death of my pets." With a raised hand, the being closed it into a fist, and Dean, Sam, and Kyle collapsed gasping for breath and coughing blood. I screamed, "NO!" and the power from the medicine wheel shot into me.

Reality dissolved around me and I was some place without form surrounded by a cloud bank. A figure of a woman with well-rounded hips and bare breasts appeared before me. She was wearing a woven skirt like the ones I had seen the Hopi Indians wear. She had long blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. "Rachel, my daughter." Her voice was soft and serene. Holding out her arms, I instinctively moved into her embrace. "Where am I? Who are you?" I stammered.

She said, "You are with me, and I am the Mother of All. I am called many things by cultures throughout the ages: Great Mother, Mother Earth, Mother Goddess and more."

"What happened to Dean and my brothers?" I started to cry.

"Tonga my consort is killing them. Once they are dead, Tonga will destroy all men, but you are the Healer. You are my daughter and represent me in the physical world. You are a mother too as all mothers are me. Through your blood and sacrifice, they can be saved and Tonga defeated. Through you, all humanity will be saved."

"I will give anything or do anything to save them. I will!" I gasped out recklessly.

"Let it be done." The Mother said sadly, and I was suddenly back on the burial mound watching as Sam, Dean, and Kyle fell to the ground.

I felt like a balloon that was on the edge of exploding from the internal pressure. Seeing Dean, Sam, and Kyle on the ground not moving, I felt the burning in my chest 10 times more than I ever had. It built and exploded from my hands hitting Tonga. I saw a bright flash of light, and it burst into flames. The figure inside the fire screamed and twisted in agony before collapsing into a heap of ash.

I felt something warm and wet sliding down my legs. I looked down and my deerskin skirt was covered in blood coming from my womb. "No! No!" I started crying and screaming holding my lower abdomen. I sank down to my knees and felt the cramps increase when I lost the baby. I fell onto my side and let the blackness take me.


	14. Recovery and Survival

I woke up to bright sunlight but on the edges of my vision it was fuzzy and unfocused like I was drugged. Fighting my way to consciousness, I realized I was in a hospital bed with an IV in my left arm. I tried to lift my hand to rub my eyes and discovered I was strapped to the bed. I fought down the panic, but I began to tug with my arms trying to get loose. The bed rails rattled as I struggled.

The door opened and Dean quickly walked into the room. "Rachel, Rachel, it's OK. I'm sorry. I'll unstrap your arms. You were thrashing around so much, we were afraid you would hurt yourself."

When I saw Dean's face all the memories came flooding back, "The baby?" I whispered shakily.

"Rachel, you miscarried the baby." Dean said sadly. "We almost lost you too. You hemorrhaged, and we barely got you to the hospital before you lost too much blood. They had to give you two transfusions and take you into surgery."

I wanted to die. I turned away from Dean and curled into a ball wrapping my arms around my legs and began to cry. I was drowning in sorrow, and I cried hopelessly lost in grief. I barely noticed Dean laying down beside me in the hospital bed and wrapping his arms around me. I sank into despair and blocked out everything else but my pain of  losing my child. I felt myself being sedated and fell off the edge into forced sleep.

The next time I woke up, it was dark in the room. I heard a rumbling and looked over to see Dean asleep in the recliner next to my bed snoring softly. I wasn't restrained this time so I was able to sit up. First thing was to get to the toilet so I got up as quietly as I could. My legs were shaking and weak, but I made it into the restroom. I washed my hands and purposely refused to look into the mirror at myself. When I opened the door, Dean was standing right outside. "Rachel, are you OK?" He said yawning.

I was afraid that if I tried to talk, I would either scream and not stop or burst into tears, so I just walked back to the bed and climbed back in curling into a ball again. Dean came and sat down on the edge of the bed laying a hand on my hip, "Rachel, do you want to talk?" I just wrapped my arms tighter around my legs and closed my eyes as tears seeped through. "When you're ready darling, I'll be here." He said quietly. Dean stroked my hair for a few minutes and caressed my shoulder.

The next day, Kyle and Sam came to the hospital. I couldn't see or hear anything but my own inner screams and wails. I laid on my side curled up and stared at nothing. At times, I thought I heard a baby cry, and it would tear my heart to pieces. Doctors came in and talked to the men, but I didn't care what was being said. A tray of food appeared on the rolling table next the bed.

Dean softly begged, "Rachel, please darling, you need to eat. I'll go get you anything you want, just tell me what you want to eat. Please, talk to me." I couldn't talk to him. I just wanted to die too.

After a few days, I felt like an empty shell. Like I had been scraped inside and there was nothing left. The hospital discharged me. I felt like I was on autopilot letting other people take care of me. Dean, Sam, and Kyle came to the hospital and took me to the ranch in the Impala. Days went by and I don't remember but small bits and pieces. Dean trying to tempt me to eat. Sam sitting on the back porch reading to me from history books while I stared off at nothing. Kyle taking me for a walk in the barn to see the horses and holding my hand to touch their velvet noses. Dean washing my hair in the bathroom tub and dressing me like I was a fragile helpless child. Almost every night I woke up in the middle of the night screaming for my baby till I couldn't scream anymore past my raw throat. Dean would hold me in his arms trying to soothe my grief. I was utterly defeated.

After a week of my barely eating or drinking, in desperation, Dean called Castiel. I was sitting on the back porch swing wrapped in a blanket because I always seemed to be too cold just staring off into the distances seeing nothing. In a small whoosh of wind, Castiel was standing in front of me looking at me with an expression of heavenly sympathy. The first emotion I ever saw on Castiel's face was his deep sadness for what had happened to me and what I lost. It broke the dam that I had built inside my mind to keep the pain away. I immediately broke down and started wailing and crying. Dean and Sam came running from inside the house, and Kyle came running from the barn. Castiel picked me up into his arms and sat down in one of the rocking chairs slowly rocking me while I cried. Dean asked a little angrily, "What the hell did you do Cas?"

"I didn't do or say anything, Dean. I just looked at her and she started to cry." He replied calmly.

"Oh God, my baby. I am so sorry, baby. I lost the baby. I want to die..." My voice was hoarse from not being used for so long, but I couldn't stop the words from pouring out of me as my tears flowed down my face. "I sacrificed my baby. I am so sorry, baby. I loved you so much, baby."

Dean dropped to his knees in front of the rocking chair and gently took me into his arms. He picked me up and carried me back to the porch swing and held me in his lap, "It's OK, darling. I know. I'm so sorry. It wasn't your fault." He murmured into my hair. Kyle, Sam, and Castiel went inside the house leaving Dean and me alone.

"I don't know how to survive this. My baby is dead. I wanted our baby, Dean." I couldn't stop crying. I don't know how long we sat like that. I was shuddering and couldn't stop shaking. I started to hiccup and sniffle until finally, I could draw a broken breath. "Dean, I am so sorry I lost our baby." I looked up into his face and saw that his cheeks were wet too. I reached up and touched his face catching one of his tears on my fingertip.

"Rachel, you didn't do anything that you have to be sorry for. If you need it, I forgive you but we both lost the baby." Dean said soothingly. "You saved me, Sam, and Kyle out there. You almost died. God, I don't want to ever lose you!"

"How do we live with this? I don't know how to survive, Dean." I whispered.

"Yes you do. Bruce Montgomery taught you to survive and you will. We're family, you, me, Sam, and Kyle and we will get through this together." He promised and a small glimmer of hope developed within my soul. I would survive and this time I wasn't alone.


End file.
